1953 to 1962
by Blue Seer
Summary: Its been a long busy decade. Follow England and America through the years while they deal with the cold war, the civil rights movement, and world conferences. All while trying to keep their relationship intact.
1. 1953

A/N: Hello, everybody and welcome to my third Hetalia fic. This fic is something different for me. I usually write a bunch of comedy. So, I was trying to challenge myself by writing something more drama filled. Let's see how it goes. This fic will be 10 chapters long, one for each year in the decade of 1953-1962. (Maybe longer if I have to double on a year, if the chapter gets too long. Probably won't happen though.) I chose this time period because I wanted to do something during the Cold War. I wanted to try my hand at writing a paranoid America. Anyways, this is fic is mostly about England's and America's relationship as it goes on between the years. You guys have no idea how nervous I am about posting this, I think its pretty much crap. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and would love some feedback, Thanks.

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><p>"Congratulations."<p>

England said in a near whisper. A faint smile adorned his face as he looked up at the American who grinned back, the reflection of the sun bouncing off his glasses. It was early evening when he arrived at America's door steps, yet the sun still glowed brightly in the late July sky. "I guess. I'm just happy it's over." America shrugged as he lifted the other's suitcase off the ground and entered the house, England following suit.

"Yes." England replied simply. It had been several months since he had last seen the younger nation, having to communicate primarily through the phone. It seemed that the slight distance between the two had made England self-conscious about how to conduct himself around the American.

After finding himself alone in the room immediately after entering, he began to roam around, acquainting himself with it once more. It hadn't changed much.

America peered over to the Brit from mid-stairway as he was climbing down, after placing the suitcase in the bedroom. England was standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room, glancing around at the items decorating a nearby shelf. England smiled lightly when he noticed a picture of the five allies during the war. It had been America's idea to take the picture during a rare moment of calmness. They all thought he was being ridiculous at the time, of course, the scowls on all of their faces being the proof. America was the only one that carried a large smile. Russia was also holding a grin yet, looked no different than the one he always held. Now that he looked back upon it, he was glad they decided to take it.

England turned his attention away from the photo once hearing the creaking stair steps. He stood still, watching as the American came up to him and smiled at him gently. They both stood there not needing anything, just enjoying the quiet surrounding them as they basked in each other's company. England's attention was completely entranced with the vibrant blues that he didn't notice when America's hands first reached either side of his face. Realizing that the other was closing their gap, England turned a light shade of pink and closed his eyes. It was a slow and soft kiss that lasted just a few seconds before America pulled away, only enough to be able to see the other's emerald eyes. "I'm happy you're here." He said tenderly before laughing at the sight of England's face becoming more flushed. "You're so British." He continued to laugh, finding it even more amusing when the other pushed him away.

"You prat." England said turning away, trying to hide his still red face.

"Aw, baby, you know you love me." America nudged him until he looked back around, a glare accompanying his colored cheeks.

"Even if I did." The Brit huffed, making his way to the kitchen in search of tea, no doubt. The American followed afterward, still highly entertained.

It has been close to eight years since the nations began their "special relationship", not only in the political sense. They had known each other for centuries yet, their journey to get where they were started slowly throughout their years in the war.

It was easy to feel connected with someone when you're out fighting, having to greatly depend on them. You're constantly with each other, providing support. Also, with them being countries, they had extra time to spend together. They had fought the Great War together as well but, there was a different spark between the two from the very beginning this time around. France took great pleasure in consistently mocking them, making jokes about their tension. England wouldn't hesitate to throw every British slur at him he could, but he also couldn't ignore the subtle touches, smiles, and the longer than usual eye contact.

There were three kisses that helped them pave the way to their new found relationship. The first being one of comfort. It was April 14, 1945, the funeral of America's boss.

Nations often got attached to their bosses, making it an incredibly dreadful moment when one lost them. England always thought that America was lucky; he didn't have to lose people he watched grow up like he did. However, when England noticed just how devastated the American was, he realized he was grateful to have that extra time with his people. It was clear why America had gotten so attached to this particular boss. They went through a lot together, from the depression to the beginning and near end of the war. They were given more time to bond through all the dreaded situations, making this loss especially painful. On top of that, America not only felt his sadness but all the grief and sorrow of his people as they witnessed their leader leave them after more than 12 years. America held in tears throughout the entire ceremony because _"heroes don't cry",_ but the reddened trim around his eyes said otherwise. England knew that on the inside, America could feel every tear his citizens dropped and that made him desperately want to be strong for them.

After the ceremony and sending their condolences to the first lady, they found a nearby bench and simply sat down. They stayed there for hours, not one word muttered. The only movement being made was England placing a comforting hand over his grieving friend's. The sky was just beginning to don a purple hue when England felt the American shift beside him. America had changed the glance he held for hours from staring straight ahead to their connected hands. England didn't know when it had happened, but apparently he had been rubbing circles around America's hand with his thumb. He immediately stopped when finally becoming aware. After stopping he quickly peered up to find that blue and green were now connected, as well. England didn't know what drove him to place his free hand on the other's cheek. It could have been his eyes that morbidly looked more beautiful as they shined behind the coat of unshed tears or the look of plain anguish on his face. It could have even been England's own sense of grief that needed a touch of comfort. Either way, England leaned in. It had been warm and incredibly gentle and neither dared to rush through. As they took their time, England felt a fallen droplet of water escape America's eye as it rolled off his hand. England did nothing to stop it or remove it, choosing instead to deny its existence. Just like the very incident itself. It was a silent truce to not speak of it again and it stayed like that to this very day.

The first kiss was unspoken of but, with out it,the others wouldn't have had a chance. Fortunately, those took place during much more joyous occasions.

It hadn't been a complete month since the death of America's boss, when Europe was celebrating their victory against Germany. It was VE Day in London, where both nations rejoiced within the large crowds that shouted out victory cheers. America knew that his side of the war wasn't over yet, but was able to push it to the side when he heard the roars of glory. The look of sheer happiness that radiated through England's eyes and smile was almost enough to make him completely forget. It was an extremely rare occurrence to ever see the Brit truly smile, his face usually taken over by a permanent grimace. So, when America witnessed England chatting animatedly with Princess Elizabeth, he couldn't resist the temptation the second she stepped away. England had been startled at first, completely taken by surprise. Then, his usual sense of worry reached him when he remembered they were in public, surrounded by hundreds of his citizens. However, he soon calmed down and responded. He had been too happy to really put up a protest and rationalized with himself, thinking that those around them were too preoccupied with their celebration to take notice.

The third kiss was the one to officially initiate their relationship, even if they never officially said it. It had been September 1945, when America came to London to see England again. America had finished meeting Japan a few days ago, where he signed the document of surrender, officially ending the war. America was still feeling guilty about what he had done to the Asian nation, especially after seeing him with his arm casted, leg splinted and, his eye patched. America, however, was relieved. He was relieved that he could finally say it was truly over. So, nothing was going to stop him as he sped towards the British nation. Not England's protests or the fact that England's boss was standing right beside them with a smirk on his face. He just wanted his congratulatory kiss.

/

"What took you so long to come visit me?" America pouted as he sat down on his couch after he switched on his television, the black and white screen playing the credits of the newly finished sitcom.

"Alfred, you know I've been incredibly busy." England replied, coming to join the American. He made sure to sit down with such a non-strained finesse in order to keep all of his warm tea from spilling. He held the saucer firmly with this left hand as he held the ear of his floral teacup in his right. Smiling, gently into the rim of the cup, he took a sip. Feeling the American's eyes on him he turned and offered him a taste, only to receive a disgusted look. "Besides, Alfred." He said clearing his throat. "You could have tried coming to visit me."

"You know I don't really want to go to Europe right now." America scrunched his brows and rubbed the back of his head. "And, I've been busy too with the war and all." He continued, England nodding as he took another drink. America signed as silence filled the room, the only sound being from the TV. It was a program he had no interest in, but felt too lazy to get up and change the channel.

They spoke the truth, times were busy. Both having to deal with the switch of their bosses and just getting their lives back together in general. Financially, England suffered greatly. Rations that had been in effect during the war were still being used, it being apparent by his substantial weight loss. He was getting better as of late, his clothes not hanging as loosely off his body as they once were. England's initial thin and pale appearance frightened the American at first, so much that he denied it. He was not used to seeing England in such a state; he was used to a nation that was always boasting with pride, an almost regal appearance. England couldn't blame the young nation, as he denied it himself until he was forced to realize the truth.

America had been lucky, his country had prospered. There was a boom in everything, industries, housing, and babies. The only painful thorn in his rose of happiness came from a new war to get involved in, the Korean War. England tried helping as well, but was not able to assist much. The number of his soldiers involved being only a fraction of those from America. Fortunately, it was over now.

"Queen Mary passed away in March." England said interrupting the noise of silence.

"Way to kill the mood, Artie."

"Ah, yes. I apologize." England replied, taking a pause from his tea and placing it softly onto his lap. He then began to dig in his pocket and pulled out a small package of candy. Opening the small bag with one pull, he promptly placed a brightly red colored hard candy into his mouth.

"No, don't be. I'm sorry. She was really nice." America placed a hand on the other's shoulders and squeezed lightly to show his support. England flinched slightly at his grip. He knew the American didn't mean to hurt him but, nowadays with his new found status as a superpower his already potent strength only became greater. England chose not to say a word about the pressure he put on his shoulder, knowing it would only make America feel highly remorseful. England also didn't want to completely come to terms with it. It was a couple of years after the war when England was still in the early stages of recovery when the American pushed him playfully, causing him to slam into a nearby brick wall. Ever since then, America had felt the need to be overly gentle him, which only frustrated the Brit. Weakness was not a good color on him.

"Yes, at times." England answered, placing a now green candy into his mouth. "Elizabeth's Coronation was beautiful, however." He finished, his eyes glowing at the memory of the luxurious event. "Did you watch the recording of it?"

"Um, of course." America answered hesitantly, his eyes shifting as he coughed in his closed fist.

"You didn't, did you?" England's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, I did!" America answered defensively as England glared. "I saw most of it." England tilted his head. "Ok, I saw some of it." England lifted a brow. "Ok, I saw like 20 minutes before I fell asleep." England sighed and shook his head, he should have known. "It was really long…and boring…stop looking at me like that…you know royalty and me don't mix…her dress was nice…"

"Oh, just stop talking." England rolled his eyes in an ungentlemanly fashion. "Honestly, Alfred. I made it for your president's inauguration; you could at least pretend to show some interest in my affairs." He continued popping in a purple treat.

"I was trying to pretend to be interested." The American obviously gave the wrong reply as he received another angry gaze from the shorter man. "What I was trying to say was…uh..." America tried to hurriedly come up with a new response that wouldn't land him on the wrong side of the angry man. Yet, before an idea left his mouth he felt a hand pat him softly on his cheek.

"Don't hurt yourself, love." The Brit said in a condescending tone of voice, accompanied with a smirk on his face. America wasn't going to get out of this one; he'd already thrown himself under the bus. "I did happen to see your brother there, however. He looked quite dashing, I may say. Like a more well-kept you, with manners."

"_Tch, _whatever. Mattie's a drag." America sneered, clicking of his tongue.

"Don't be so rude." England couldn't help but grin at America's reaction. "He looked charming in his tuxedo. You could learn a thing or two from him." The younger nation was currently frowning, his brow turned inward and his lips slightly pout. England greatly enjoyed when the American had his moments of insecurity. Not because he wanted to see him unsure of himself, not by any means. He just found it refreshing when America could let go of his egotistical behavior, let go of his need to claim his greatness. So, seeing America so noticeably envious of his brother made him slightly more charming in England's eyes.

"So he looks good in a suit but, he can never be as fun as me, right?" America smiled, nudging England's arm with his elbow. "Huh, Artie?" he continued, still egging on the Englishman next to him. Despite the Brit's refusal to answer, America knew he was winning this time around as he noticed the tiniest upward shift in England's lips. "I bet you even thought he was me at first, didn't you?" America's smile only became larger as he noticed England's eyes widen at the allegation. He loved his brother despite everything, really he did but, the guy was just really easy to forget sometimes. He, the hero, was even guilty of forgetting about him. He would feel much worse about it as well if he didn't forget why he was feeling guilty right afterwards.

"It's Arthur and I would not do such a thing." England insisted, regardless of the horrible job he was doing at lying. He was avoiding eye contact, fidgeting, and correcting America about his name. England had given up on the name battle a while ago, finding it too much of a hassle. He also found out that the name didn't bother him as much as he thought it did. The only time England brought it up nowadays was when he was either angry or trying to distract.

"If you say so, _Arthur_." America said, purposely emphasizing on the name as he scooted closer to the other. He scooted until there was no gap between them and crouched down slightly to place his head on the shorter man's shoulder.

"And I do." England replied, tilting his head, letting it rest upon the blonde locks on his shoulder. They sat silently once more, this time without the awkward strain.

England released a deep exhale; his body slowly relaxed as he listened to the soothing sounds of America's rhythmical breaths. He was tired, jetlag getting the better of him. He knew he should not fall asleep now if he wanted to adjust to the time change. "Oh." He said, finding a new topic to start on in order to keep himself awake.

"Don't say something sad." America answered quickly.

"I wasn't going to." Smiling, England placed a caressing hand on the American's cheek. "My boss got knighted a few months ago. He asked about you." He finished. England removed his hand quickly from America's face when the blue eyed American rapidly sat up, a large prominent grin finding its way onto his face.

"Good old, Churchill?"America asked with his bright teeth now being showcased. "He asked for me?"

England chuckled softly at the other blonde's child-like excitement. America had always been quite fond of his Prime Minister. He even showed genuine happiness when he came into the office once more by coming over to visit. "Yes, he asked how you were doing." England patted the other's leg when he shifted his position to better face the Brit. "I told him that you were doing well and lively but, not without your worries, of course."

"Is that all? What else did he say?"

"Not too much after that." England could not resist an internal snigger at the American's pout. "He said he was very happy to hear that and to give you a pat on the back for him." America smiled at this, he didn't really receive a pat from England but, he wanted it. So, he was going to make sure to get it one way or another. "Unfortunately, he asked how we were doing afterwards." England scrunched his brows together as he remembered the conversation he had with his boss.

"We?"

"Yes, I told him we were doing just fine, but then he started giving me relationship advice. I told him it wasn't necessary but he insisted. He just went on and on about it for over an hour. The whole conversation was quite uncomfortable-" England said at a rapid pace, shaking his head as his face became slightly flushed at the memory.

America stayed silent for a short while as he stared at the highly interesting faces England made, evidently having flashbacks to that awkward night. "Ah, Churchy, always liked him." He laughed finally snapping England out of his dreamland.

"Churchy?" England asked appalled, receiving only a grin. That was it for him. He was officially ready to end this conversation. He was even considering placing it into the list of unspoken events. He truly had no desire to ever speak of it again. He didn't want to deal with the awkward and uncomfortable emotions he was having nor, did he want to deal with America's ego. He was certain he could feel America's aura surrounding them, and right after his spell of insecurity at that. So, instead of focusing on their recent discussion England went back to enjoying his tea, now only lukewarm.

"Wait-" America knew the conversation was over. England had made it quite clear but, that's was not why he wanted to regain England's attention. They had been sitting there, side by side for some time now. Yet, this was the first he noticed what England was placing in his mouth while drinking his favorite drink. "Are you eating candy?" He asked, receiving a soft_ 'yes'_. "With tea?" he replied back, as if confirming what was in the cup.

"Yes." England responded much more firmly, getting tired of the questions with such obvious answers.

"Gross, why?" America scrunched his nose and let his tongue slip out of his mouth, clearly thinking that the combination was disgusting. "Why would you want put together one of the best and worst tastes?" Rolling of the eyes ensued.

"Surely, neither tastes bad to me. In fact, the combination leaves a refreshingly good taste in my mouth." The Englishman answered, popping in an orange colored droplet for good measure. Yet, instead of receiving a look of repulsion, America smirked.

"I'll leave you a good taste in your mouth."

"Alfred!" England could feel his skin burning, knowing that it glowed with a deep shade of red. Crimson, he would say if he was able to see himself. He cursed his light skin at times; it made the blood that rushed to his face that much more noticeable. Yet, he couldn't help himself. No matter how long they have been together, he hadn't been able to adjust to America's mouth. Not the insides, he knew that fairly well, just the words that came out of it. _'Excellent.' _England thought as he managed to make himself blush more brightly.

He sat there, not saying a word. His face baking in the heat he created as he glared at the laughing American. The serious gaze on the Brit's face did not make America quiet down in the slightest. It was quite counter intuitive, causing him only to cackle louder, filling the entire room. "Baby—" he began but never finished before he busted out in another round.

England huffed, as he made his way to his feet. He didn't need to take this, what he needed was another cup of tea. However, he didn't manage to take a step away. As soon as he lifted a foot off the ground, a pair of arms pulled him back. As he fell back to the couch, he landed in between America's legs. Despite England's initial sense of panic, he didn't need to fear being slammed. America was able to control his motion, stopping England a second before he made contact with his chest. America finished his movement by bringing England over to rest on him slowly, wrapping his arms around the smaller man.

"You're impossible." England said, leaning further back into America's hold. Now that he found himself sitting back down, comfortable, and nowhere to go (not that he couldn't fight his way out if he wanted to) he began to feel the tiredness fill him once more.

"I think it's amazing how you managed to keep your little tea set intact." America said amused, after a short while, his chin resting on England's shoulder.

England opened his eyes he had shut and looked down at himself. America had been right. He still held the teacup and saucer properly in his hands. "An Englishman never puts his tea in danger. "He smirked.

"Unless you leave it on some boats for me to throw." America grinned as he received an elbow to the stomach.

"Don't start with that." England shook his head with disapproval. Honesty, the nerve America had to tell him he was ruining the moment earlier. Not that the American knew anything about keeping a moment or what a moment is even comprised of. If he did, he would know to never mention anything about that time period. That's it. He knew what should be done. "Let's put that on the list as well." He said in a muffled almost inaudible voice.

"List?" America asked perplexed. England had stayed quiet for quite some time before speaking up with something the American found completely random. Yet, instead of speaking again, England turned just enough to nestle his face into America's neck. "What list?" He nudged the smaller man in his arms for an answer.

"No speak list." England muttered, still leaving America confused before his breaths evened out to a steady pace. He had lost his battle to stay awake. He had found himself too warm and comfortable to fight any longer. He didn't mind too much, he was just going to take longer to adjust to the time change. He had been through it many times before.

"Party pooper." America said into the blonde locks near the Brit's ear. After receiving no reply, America figured he should try to place England in a more comfortable position. As he shifted slowly, making sure not to wake the sleeping nation he couldn't help but to smile. In England's hands was the teacup, still being neatly held.

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><p>England yawned deeply into his hand as he took quick steps. "Would you slow down?" He shouted, having to speed up his pace. He was trying to keep up with the long legged American, his strides carrying him a lot faster than England's.<p>

America had remained at the same level of enthusiasm the entire day. He woke up surprising early, hopping into the kitchen startling the Englishman that was making a cup of morning tea. America happily announced that he had the entire day scheduled out as he pulled England away from the room. Surely, it seemed that the excited American was in a hurry to start the day. However, he really wanted to pull the Brit out before he attempted to make them breakfast. He didn't want to start the day with a near death experience. He had too many of those as it was.

After getting dressed and finishing their morning routines, they made their way to a nearby diner for an edible meal. They walked, America felt the day was too beautiful to not enjoy to the fullest. The sun was shining brightly as the cotton white clouds accented the opaque blue. America's citizens were also enjoying the weather as many were outside roaming around town or simply sitting outside their homes. Though the Brit couldn't argue that the day was indeed beautiful he could complain, not being used to the too hot weather. _"Just be happy we're not in Texas." _America would joke_._

Their breakfast was light and pleasant and not too greasy. The meal was America's treat. In fact, everything the two nations had done had been his treat. England had very quickly caught on to what the American was doing. He was using every excuse to take responsibility for paying; his favorite being that England was his guest. England thought it to be sweet at first. Yet, as the day progressed it soon began to infuriate the Brit.

Currently America was practically jogging towards a shoe store that was located just around the corner. As America kept picking up his pace, England was finding it increasingly difficult to keep up with the over-excited American. It didn't help that England could feel the beginning of drowsiness come along. "Ah, come on Artie. Why are you so tired, you didn't stay up for very long?" America teased.

"Hmph." England muttered, looking away. "Maybe so, but I also woke up incredibly early." He indeed fell into the land of slumber quite soon. However, his body knowing that it was day time in London woke him up in the early hours of the morning. He struggled to fall back asleep, ultimately failing. He ended up simply lying in bed until he couldn't stand it any longer and began to roam around the large house. By the time he decided it was time for his 5th cup of tea, America had woken up.

"We're almost there. Just try to keep up for a little while longer, old man." America laughed at England's disapproving grunt.

"Why did you say it was necessary to go to the shoe store now?" England asked, wiping away at the drips of sweat that coated his forehead.

"Because Artie! I need to get the new low top Converses before they sell out!" America answered, shaking his head at England's lack of knowledge, as if it was the most common known fact.

"Don't you have those already?" England questioned, taking a look at America's footwear as they finally arrived at the shoe store's front.

Looking confused and slightly appalled by England's remark, America stopped mid-way from opening the shop's door. "No." He said looking down at England with an unexpected serious expression. "I'm wearing high tops." He said correcting the still confused Englishman. After receiving no reply except for a lifted brow, America sighed and entered the store.

/

"Just how long are you planning to examine the same pair of bloody shoes?" England asked exasperated. He sat on a small bench provided for shoe testing, taking a bite out a chocolate bar that luckily hadn't melted in his pocket. He wanted a break after a day of walking in the heat, so he made his way to the small stool immediately after entering. However, now that he sat there he found himself completely—bored.

He never intended to purchase anything therefore he had to settle for watching America shop. He was fine with this at first but unfortunately, it was taking much longer then he had anticipated. The greatest factor in the time being wasted was America's need to compare every two pairs of shoes that to England looked exactly the same. He didn't think he could take it for much longer, he would soon run out of chocolate.

"They look the same to you?" asked America, temporarily turning his attention away from the shoes he held in either of his hands.

"Yes, because they are." England crossed his arms along with his legs, causing him to stretch oddly in order to reach his chocolate bar. "You could at least take a look at the nice looking pairs." He smirked smugly.

"Pfft, I think you're confused. These are great." America replied, setting the shoes back down into their respected boxes. "If you have such an eye for shoes, why don't you at least take a look, instead of just sitting there sulking?" he continued, now crossing his arms, matching the seated Brit.

"I am not sulking." The shorter man exclaimed, louder than he had hoped. His loud reaction caught the attention of one of the employees. The employee soon began to make his way over to the couple and almost reached them when America waved him off with a shake of the head. Nodding in understanding, the employee retreated towards the front of the store.

"All you've done is sit there looking annoyed." America pointed out when he turned back towards his companion. "You're sulking." He told the agitated Brit who turned way, breaking their eye contact. America wasn't going to stand for that. No one sulks during his scheduled day of fun. He was proud of his day of fun. He put a lot of thought to this day and that's saying something, considering his usual track record for planning and preparations. This was the first full day of England's visit and he wanted England to enjoy it. America really missed his irritable Brit no matter just how irritable he was being. So, if he had to, he was going to force his Brit to enjoy it.

"Come on, Arthur." America said, surprising the shorter blonde by pulling him off his seat.

"Wha—what are you doing?" England stuttered as he stumbled to stand next to the grinning American. He instantly slapped the other nation's hand off of him once he was able to catch his stance.

"Look around." The taller nation said spreading his arms out to his sides. "If you don't like awesome shoes like me, then look at the rest." He laughed while England stood there unmoving, only throwing daggers at him. America had seen England truly angry before and he had to admit that it was terrifying but, sometimes his shows of frowns were simply adorable. "Those are nice. Not too boring." America chuckled as he pointed out a pair of hideous looking shoes.

England stared up at the taller nation as if he had lost his mind. America knew they were unattractive but he also knew it would get England to argue back, and that was always fun. "Those are awful." England said curling his lips at the sheer thought of having to look at them. "Honestly, you have absolutely no taste."

"Oh, yeah? Well, which would you pick then, Mister Shoe Master?" America grinned when England accepted the challenge. He was glad that England was now participating, even if he did have to taunt him with horrible footwear.

America loved to purposely tease and aggravate the Brit; he had to admit that he sometimes enjoyed the English bickering. It was fun to listen to, with all those funny words. England stood still and silent as he observed the collection of shoes from a short distance. He moved his gaze quickly, trying to see which pair grabbed his attention (in a good way) first. After several seconds, he found a few that were good enough for a closer examination. He stepped forward, bending down to their level to get a better view. "Ah, now these." He finally said as he reached out for a box with the shoes of his liking. "These are shoes."

Inside the box was a pair of classically designed dark brown saddle shoes. The brogue trim that accented the upper part of the genuine leather gave an aura of sophistication while the neatly tied laces and precisely stitched sole gave a sense of order. They were a common shoe however, letting them be both chic yet simple, business yet casual. Though clean and smooth they seemed comfortable, durable and dependable, and over all—highly predictable. Just like England, America couldn't help to think as he smiled. They were perfect.

"You're right. They look good. You should get them." America commented as he noticed England concentrating on the box of shoes in his hands. They stood; America examining England up and down as he continued to focus on the items inside of the small cardboard box, never replying.

As America studied him, he could safely say that ultimately all of England remained the same. His hair was still messy and blonde, his brows still large and prominent, and his eyes still a vibrant jade. Yet, America couldn't help but to notice the changes others wouldn't detect. His thinner frame being one, fortunately he was close to reaching his normal weight again, but it still bothered America. He was bothered by the fact that he could do nothing to help, it all depended on the recovery of England's own nation.

Glancing down towards the shoes England was wearing, he noticed their worn and tattered appearance. It was apparent that they were old and often used. After the war, clothes rations had stayed just like many others. Luckily, it was one of the rations that had now ended, but America knew that the Brit still refused to buy anything new for himself. England continued to save as much as he could, buying only things that were completely necessary. It would make him feel extremely guilty to purchase anything while knowing that his citizens were struggling.

America smiled softly, looking back at England's face that was still holding a look of concentration as he contemplated whether to splurge a bit. There wasn't anything America could do about his weight but, he could help with this. "I'll get them!" He exclaimed grabbing the shoe box out of England's arms, knocking him out of this daze. Not waiting for a reply, America turned, walking towards the checkout. "It'll be a thank you for visiting gif—"

"I'm not a charity!" England yelled, gasping immediately afterwards, realizing that he had just made a scene. His embarrassment nevertheless, did not stop him from glaring heavily at the American's back.

America stopped dead in his tracks, looking up at the people at the counter glancing their way after hearing the commotion. He was honestly not surprised about England's outburst. He was actually surprised it hadn't happened sooner. This wasn't their first confrontation, there have been several others. England didn't like it when America gave him special treatment. It made him feel weak and useless but, America couldn't help it.

"I know." America replied smiling, when he finally turned back towards the angry Brit. The grin only making England angrier, apparent as his brows narrowed further. "I never said you were." Despite his effort to not smile once more, America failed. There was a small vein on England's forehead that always made an appearance when he was angry. Not knowing why, America found it rather amusing. "Can't I just like buying you things?" He asked.

England's eyes stayed sharp as he continued to stare up at the American. He didn't have an answer to that. What was he supposed to say? That he wasn't allowed to like buying him things? That was absurd. He always believed in giving to the ones you loved. He had gone to great lengths in the past to give things for America, including injuring himself while building. Yet, this was different, he didn't want his pity.

"I just like making you happy." America said, knowing he had won this round when England's eyes softened. England sighed, finally looking away and replied with an almost inaudible 'fine.'

"Great!" America exclaimed, placing a hand on the Brit's shoulders. "So, one pair of boss looking shoes for me and some boring shoes for you; sounds about right." America laughed as he turned around heading for the counter once more, England still glaring behind him. America's expression also softened once it was out of the England's view. He held in a sigh, knowing that England must have really taken a liking to these shoes as he didn't put up much of a fight. There had been times when he'd run out with a slam of the door.

"Good evening, gentlemen!" America shouted out upon finally reaching the front of the store, slamming the two boxes on the counter. He immediately gained the attention of the two attending employees. Nodding, one employee left through a door a side door, leaving the employee at the counter to do the checkout.

England sighed as he stood slightly behind, not wanting to call any more attention to himself after his two earlier displays. No matter how hard he tried to stay low key, of course America couldn't help but to draw attention. He decided to drown out the rest of their interaction and focused on finishing his chocolate bar that he had shoved into his pocket after being forced to shop.

"Hello, sir. My name is Steven." greeted the employee. "Did you find everything okay?" he asked out of courtesy while taking a quick glance at the British man standing close by. America had missed it but, England clearly did not as he blushed and turned away.

"Yes, everything was fine, thanks." America answered gleefully. "Just these two." He said, pushing the boxes closer to the young man.

As Steven prepared the two pairs, America's eyes began to wander. As he took in what he saw within the store he couldn't help but to stop his sights on another young employee, one that he had missed before. He sat further way from the counter at a regular wooden desk. He had ashy blond hair and wore the same attire as Steven. A pair of black dress pants, a white dress shirt and, a brown vest. He appeared to be doing paperwork as he was surrounded by what looked like documents and folders.

America didn't know why this man had caught his attention. He didn't know what caused him to stare at an employee that seemed to be minding his own business. It was as if he had seen him before. Had he? He did look familiar. America often strolled around town; he saw many people at varies different places. It was very much possible to have seen him around or even in this very store.

"Sir? Sir?" The gentleman at the counter repeated himself several times, trying to knock America out of this stupor. His attempts had failed; he managed to catch England's attention instead.

England had also been in his own world, glazing out of the large glass door to the scenery outside until he heard the employee's calls. When England turned to focus once more on the happenings within the shop he noticed America, staring straight ahead towards another worker. He stood there with a blank face as the other repeated his calls. It wasn't like America was purposely ignoring the employee. No, it did not seem like he was being rude or playing a joke. It appeared as if his mind was so out of the moment that he simply couldn't hear him.

"Alfred?" England called, touching America's arm to try his attempt at getting his attention.

America jumped at the touch before blinking his eyes several times. "Huh?" he stuttered out, turning to look at England who now stood beside him.

"He was talking to you." England answered, gesturing towards the employee.

"Oh." America quickly responded and turned back towards Steven. He smiled one of his bright smiles briefly in a failed attempt to make it up to him.

"That'll be $23.89, sir." Steven smiled back hesitantly. America nodded in understanding as he took his wallet out to pay the man.

England followed his every move, from pulling the wallet out of his pocket to digging for the money. What he noticed was that no matter what actions America made, he always took at least a millisecond to glance up. His eyes were shooting straight through Steven and onto the worker in the rear.

England narrowed his eyebrows as he witnessed America hand over the money, never taking the time to look Steven in the eye.

Steven fidgeted as he took the payment, being able to sense the awkwardness of the current situation. Feeling the need to step away, he quickly handed the shopping bag to his customer and rushed to the register for the change.

The store became eerily settle, the only sounds being from the chimes and dings from the cash register. America continued to stare straight ahead as England kept his eyes on him. Meanwhile, Steven who was desperately trying to avoid anyone's gape shut the register with a loud band that filled the store. He mumbled to himself, most likely cursing the ever so noisy machine as he made his way back to his customer, change in hand.

The elder blonde released a breath when the change was given. He was relieved that they were now able to leave this situation. Ready to leave, he turned around to make his way towards the large glass doors. He didn't get very far. America was following slowly until the young worker that sat further back look up and away from his paperwork. England stopped and turned back when he heard the American's steps cease. "Alfred?" he called out, becoming increasingly worried.

America nodded his head at the sound of his name yet, remained still.

England stepped closer when he noticed just how uncomfortable Steven stood. He stood with his head tilted down, playing with the hem of his dark brown vest. Just as England placed his hand on America's arm the other worker looked over and smiled. America's flinched and returned to the counter, starling Steven and completely dismissing the arm that now hung in the air.

"Hello, sir." said the worker at the desk as he stood up for another stretch.

"Do I know you?" America asked, his voice sounding uncharacteristically stern and with what England noted, a hint of fear.

"Well, I've seen you around here before, Mr. Jones." America's eyes widen momentarily before his brows tapered, bringing them closer together in a fury as he slammed his hands on the counter with a large bang. The loud noise echoed through the silent shop. It was a miracle that the sheer force of the blow hadn't caused a crack in the wood.

"How do you know my name?" America shouted. Steven, now terrified quickly backed away just happy that the yells were not directed towards him. England called out but again was ignored.

"I—I—" The Employee stammered, holding on the desk for support. "I've seen you around here before, Mr—sir." he managed to release, catching himself before repeating the name. He didn't want to take the chance of setting the angry customer into another fit of rage. "You've introduced yourself to other employees before." his knuckles turning white due to his grip on the desk.

"Oh!" America tilted his head to the right and released a daunting laugh. "So, you just happen to have heard it. Is that it?" he sniggered again at the employee's nod. "How convenient!" England tried many times to gain America's attention, but his shouts were directed towards deaf ears. America continued to terrify the employee with his relentless yelling. "What else did you happen to find out about me, huh?" America began pacing wildly alongside the counter. He felt around the surface frantically, searching for the means to get around the counter and into the employee's area. Finding it locked, he remained pacing with his back hunched, appearing similar to a lion's stalking.

"What else? Tell me!" He stopped suddenly slamming his palms on top of the counter top.

"I don't know anything, sir." The employee replied shaking his head frenetically, his eyes quickly shifting towards his co-worker. His face pleaded for some sort of assistance that didn't come as Steven only returned his look.

"Don't look at him." America shouted, noticing the swift contact. "I'm talking to you!"

"Alfred, calm down!" England called out as he grabbed hold of America's arm to only have it pushed away. England was at a loss for words and actions. He was uncertain of how to finally snap the superpower out of this trance he had gotten himself into, without further frightening the citizens. He dreadfully watched America again assault the counter as he demanded information. The collisions caused the two employees to flinch and the register to make involuntary chimes.

What finally made England cringe in worry was when he heard the ring of the small bell that hung above the door, indicating that a new customer had entered. He turned towards the entrance were a lady in a lovely flushed dress that were so popular at the time stood frightened as she held on to the hand of her young daughter. She couldn't have been any older than 7, with her symmetrical pigtails. She clung more tightly on to her mother's hand as America pointed to the scared employee with a shout.

"If you just tell me what you know, I'll even let them let you off easy!" he barked, leaving the employee even more baffled and petrified.

"But I don't know anything!" he replied earnestly with a tone of desperation.

The bell rang again as the woman and her daughter hastily made their way out. England looked on as they walked away, taking the time to glance back every now and then. England scrunched his brows, having enough. He treaded heavily towards America, grabbing firmly onto his forearm. "Alfred!" he pulled only to have America squirm his arm harshly, trying to free himself from the grip. Not going to let himself be pushed away yet again, England yanked America's arm far enough to have enough room to squeeze in the space between him and the counter.

"Alfred!" England shouted as he grabbed hold of either sides of America's face in his hands. America thrashed his head, fighting to get released. It was as he didn't even realize who or what was holding him. His glaze still shot above England's head and straight onto the employee.

Pushing down on his ears, England noticed America flinch before pulling him down to eye level. "Stop it." He said in a somber demanding low tone.

The gravity of England's voice stopped America momentarily, blinking several times as if waking. A rustle in the back, most likely the employee stirring nearly caused America's head to shoot back up. Yet, England anticipating such a movement brought their foreheads together. "Stop it." He whispered, just loud enough for only the two to hear. "He's not what you think he is." He pulled away in order to see him in the eye.

America opened his mouth, ready to protest, only to have it covered by England's hand. "Just look at him." Glancing over to the rear of the store, he noticed for the first time without a complete tunnel vision, a frightened young man.

In the time that it took for England to calm America down, the employee had managed to step behind the desk. As if standing behind it would better shield him from an attack. He was still holding onto the desk tightly, his knuckles still a pale white and his arms visibly shaking. As America continued to look on, also peering over to Steven who hid behind the cash register, he realized something. He only managed to scare some of his citizens and what kind of hero did that?

He took in every bit of the employee's appearance before turning back to England who had now let go of his face and smiled. It was his way of reassuring England that he had finally snapped out of whatever he was going through.

England nodded in understanding, believing him after noticing that his eyes were no longer glowing darkly. They had returned to their usual bright and youthful shine. England stepped away from the tight space as he made his way to the forgotten shopping bag, picking it up before sending a look towards the American.

He stood awkwardly, fidgeting slightly, moving one leg then the other. He was looking down at the ground, finding his old shoes very interesting while he rubbed the back of his head. He tried picking his head up to only bring it back down. It wasn't until he heard a presumably fake cough from England that made him lift his head. "Um…I'm sorry for that." He said before quickly making his way out the door.

England, who still stood by the counter watched as he flew by. Looking over to the two workers, he bowed lightly. "I greatly apologize for what just happened and the inconvenience it might have caused." He quickly said before joining America outside.

He was solemnly standing out by the street. His face carried no expression as he stared off into the distance at the slowly dropping sun. England slowly made his way to the younger nation, not saying a word as he stood by him, only observing. "What?" America asked, feeling the England's eye's on him.

"Don't _'what'_ me, Alfred. What was that?" England gestured back to the shoe store with a he tilt of head.

"It wasn't anything." America shrugged, stepping off the curb and began walking.

"Don't give me that." He said following. "That was clearly not _'nothing'_."

America released an agitated grunt and rolled his eyes as he continued to hike down the street, only stopping momentarily as cars passed through. "Don't this. Don't that. Ok, daddy." He mocked.

"Alfred."

"Ok!" America said stopping abruptly and faced the older nation, catching him by surprise "So, I freaked out a little." He shrugged again, also letting out a frustrated breath.

"A little?" England shook his head, before following a person with is eyes as they walked by. "I think that was a little more than a little." He continued, lowering his voice.

"Are you just going to argue back with everything I say?" America asked, his own voice rising instead, completely making England's attempt at not making another scene futile. "Because if you are, then what's the point of saying anything?" America averted his eyes, deciding to himself that he didn't want to be there right now, he took off again, not waiting for England to say a word.

"Alfred!" England called out, pursuing the speedy American. America was not truly walking to his fullest, however. He had no intent of losing the Brit. He just didn't feel like discussing his behavior at the moment. England was aware of this as he was not having any trouble keeping up with him. In fact, he was only a couple steps ahead and England only needed a few large steps to reach him.

"Would you calm down?" England lunged forward, managing to grab hold of America's arm.

America stopped the second he felt England's hand on him. He didn't know what else to do. He wasn't running. That's not what heroes do, he just wished England wouldn't hassle him about this. He wasn't in the mood. He just wanted to go home, relax a bit, and then continue on with his day of fun.

America was so deep within his own thoughts that England's hand on his chest caught him by complete surprise. The older nation now stood in front of him, holding a concerned expression. America frowned deeply. He really didn't want a lecture right now.

"I did tell you that he wasn't what you thought he was, didn't I?" England asked, only receiving a nod in return. "That means I have a slight idea what that was all about." He sighed as the American stayed silently still. "Not everyone that looks remotely like Russia is after you, you know?" America's eyes widened, it seemed that his behavior was more obvious than he had expected. "So, I take by your reaction, that my assumptions were correct?"

"You-" America began, stilling refusing to completely face the Brit. "You can never know." He crossed his arms, a movement he made in order to stop himself from fidgeting. "You know he's after me, trying to find information about me. He can have people anywhere. I'm just trying to be careful." His eyes roamed, taking in his surroundings. England frowned at his actions, becoming increasingly worried.

"You're being careful by yelling at random people?" England asked.

America unfolded his arms harshly, slapping them on his denim covered legs. "See! There you go again." He snapped, this time leaving it to England to huff a sigh as he crossed his own arms around his chest. "I know I didn't exactly do the right thing, okay? It's just I have to look out for suspicious things."

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

"Just because Stalin is gone doesn't mean the new guy isn't just as bad." America said, seeming to be calming down a bit. His voice reached back towards his normal volume as his eyes also slowed.

Feeling a great amount of awkwardness seeping through them, America placed his hands in his pant pockets nervously. After a few seconds of silence, he looked down from the darkening sky. "Uh—" he started with a pause, looking at the Brit. "You wanna go to a drive-in?" he asked with a grin, showcasing his childlike enthusiasm, gaining him the smallest of smiles in return.

"Sure."

* * *

><p>"That was great, wasn't it?" America exclaimed as he entered his home. He made sure to switch on the lights in the dark living room before either of them tripped over some stray mess.<p>

"It was quite entertaining." England answered, taking a quick stretch before sitting down on the couch. "But how many alien related movies have you had this year?" He asked, removing his shoes.

"Um—a lot?" Shrugged the American. "I'm surprised you liked it." He said, making his way towards the kitchen for a glass of water. "Want something?"

England shook his head alongside a wave of the hand, implying that he was fine. "I didn't." He spoke up, so to be heard in a different room. "I enjoyed the second film. I'm glad it was a double feature."

"I should have guessed." America released a tiny chuckle as he made his way back into the living room. In his hands he carried a large glass of what appeared to be plain water. "I still think you have a thing for Marilyn." He said with a louder laugh escaping his mouth.

"I do not have a thing." England started with a blush. "But I'll admit that she is quite an attractive young lady."

"Ha! Told you. You have a thing." The American teased, making his way towards his seat next to the Brit, who was still holding a reddish hue.

"It's okay, baby." Oh, how England wished America would quit insisting on calling him that. It wasn't only embarrassing it was—embarrassing. "I have a thing for Lu—oh no!" America exclaimed looking panicked before heading more towards slightly saddened, all while staring at the black screen of the television set.

"What is it?"

"We missed the only good thing to come out of Cuba." He answered solemnly, his distressed eyes still shooting towards the TV, willing it to turn on by itself.

"Cigars?" England replied with such monotone that it made it difficult to determine whether he was being serious or not. Either way, it left America with no other choice but to grin.

"Okay, the second only good thing to come out of Cuba." America paused, expecting another response from his European companion. Instead, he only received an empty stare and a couple of blinks. It was quite obvious that he was waiting for America to further explain, and the American no longer hesitated to continue and show his excitement for this topic. "Ricky!" He shouted, England's stare now heading towards confusion. "Ricardo!" He paused for dramatic effect. "I Love Lucy!"

"Oh!" England exclaimed finally understanding. "Of course."

America sighed, slouching further into the sofa. "Man, the baby episode was great." England's chest vibrated from the soft inaudible laugh. "That Ricky is one lucky guy." He slid further down, until his head was placed gently on the European's lap.

"Is he?" England played along.

America shifted his position, rotating into his back and pick up his legs onto the rest of the couch. His legs dangled a bit off the side, but this way he could lie down and be able to look up at the bushy browed man. "Yeah, he is." He said with a smile. "But you don't have to be jealous, you know." England sneered at this. "I'm pretty damn lucky too." And at this England shifted his green orbs away, appearing to be irritated and annoyed before releasing a quiet,

"Me too."

* * *

><p>"Alfred!" The bushy browed man yelled as he searched throughout the oversized house. While shoving the last bit of licorice into his mouth in a way that he would normally deem inappropriate.<p>

The European was on the search for the American that held many titles for him. He was a friend, ally, rival, ex-brother, and lover—God, how England hated that word.

"Alfred, I need to leave soon." The Englishman called out. His visit had lasted a surprising couple of months. It was an incredibly rare occurrence for them to be able to spend so much time together, but England's boss had been generous. He knew his country needed a break after all that has happened and all that will surely come. Yet, it was now time for him to go back across the Atlantic. His problem, however, was that America was nowhere to been found.

"I would highly appreciate it if you could come out of wherever it is you're hiding and help me." He said loudly, hoping to be heard from afar.

"Alfred, what on Earth are you doing?" He had finally found the younger nation, this he was happy about. What had him confused was the other nation's current location.

America would have continued to be hidden if it wasn't for the shuffling noise he was making when England stepped into the rather large kitchen. In the kitchen was a small dining table, only big enough to barely squeeze in four people. America kept this for when he dined alone or with just a few guests. The much grander table was settled nicely in a separate much larger dining room. There was nothing special about this cozy table, except that America happened to be under it.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" America replied from underneath the light brown table, sitting with his legs crisscrossed.

"Hiding under the table." England answered a matter of fact. "I was just hoping that there was something more to this." America rolled his eyes.

"Geez, Artie. I'm not hiding. I'm practicing." He started and just as the other man opened his mouth to ask about what exactly he meant by practice, America spoke up once more. "I have to be prepared incase that Russian commie bastard tries anything." He finished, poking his head out just a tad.

"And your method of being prepared is practicing to hide under the table?" England asked, lifting a heavy brow.

"Damn it, Arthur." America scoffed, tossing his head to the side. "I'm not hiding. I'm seeking shelter."

"Under the table?" the dumbfounded England asked shaking his head as he kneeled down to America's level. "Alfred, are you listening to yourself?" He asked worriedly. "Do you honestly believe that a slab of wood is going to save you from an H-bomb?"

"Well, it's better than nothing."

"It's as good as nothing." America didn't respond with words and the only gesture he performed was to cross his arms. "And I'm certain that you know fairly well what they are capable of."

"Yeah," Answered the blond American as he lifted up the glasses that had fallen to the tip of his nose. England sighed. "He's testing them now, you know?" America whispered, as if the Russian could possibly hear him from many miles away.

"And so are you." England kindly pointed out. "Must you all resort to—"

"Oh, don't you dare start to preach." America interrupted, bluntly pointing a finger. "You are in no way a peace keeper,_ Britannia_."

England scowled deeply, exhaling a gruff breath of air. "Fair enough." He mumbled.

"Besides, you can't even pretend that you guys aren't coming up with the bombs too." America continued on, making his point, all while sticking his head out more and more from underneath his wooden hiding spot.

England opened and shut his mouth several times, words refusing to escape. "W—well, yes." He finally stuttered out. "But, what else do you expect us to do?" he said, moving over to rest on his knees, rather than just kneeling down. "Just stay behind and hope we don't get caught in the middle? We're still recovering; we can't afford to get hit again without anything to back us up. We know what it's like to be bombed, it was devastating. So, I don't even want to imagine what it would be like with an H bo—" England wasn't given the opportunity to finish his rant. He had been caught by surprise when he was grabbed and yanked under the _"fallout shelter_".

"Alfred, et me o!" England shouted in a struggle. It was difficult for him to speak while being smothered into the American's broad chest.

"I'll back you up, babe." America pronounced heroically while still removing England's air supply.

"Alfred, that's a very novel idea." England managed to get out as he lifted his head. "But before you can claim to want to save me, how about you stop killing me?" America blinked confusingly as he looked down to the person in his arms. England was still struggling to pull away and was actually making progress, which made America smile. "And…" England continued finally being freed from the American's grasp. "We both know how you're like when it comes to helping me, don't we?"

"Oooh—low blow, Artie." It was now America's turn to scowl at the insensitive comment. "You know I wanted to help you." He pouted.

"Oh, you did not." The Brit argued back and went on before anything else left the American's open mouth. "If I remember correctly, you didn't want to get yourself involved in another European war. One you had nothing to do with and—"

"Okay, okay, I was conflicted." he shouted, waving his hands in front of his face as a defense. "That doesn't mean I didn't want to help you. I did."

"That plainly means you didn't want to help."

"No, it's just-" he cleared his throat. "Well, I wanted to help. The boss did too but, my citizens. They were always so reluctant. So, of course, I felt some of that, too."

"So, that's why while I was out fighting trying to not get shot, you were at the beach getting a suntan?" England lowered his shoulders and narrowed his brows. Now, this definitely wasn't the first argument of its kind. Most of them had occurred during the war. England took great pleasure in pointing out just how late America had been. His poking fun was his way of numbing the fact that it really had hurt him. Also, England wasn't one to ask for help thus making his plead being rejected a grand blow to his pride.

"Um, yes?" America shrugged. "Hey, at least I did finally join."

"Not until Japan attacked you, I hardly think that counts."

"Of course it does!" America exclaimed with a look of deep concentration, searching for a way to support his claim. "The end justifies the means."

"That's a horrible thing to say in this case. "England frowned.

"But—" America frowned in returned. The entire conversation had taken a bizarre and unwanted turn. America didn't want to end it like this, not after it took them so long to be able to see each other. He didn't want to spend the last few moments arguing. Neither of them had any idea when the next time they would be able to see each other would be.

England sighed quietly, his face softening once seeing America's expression. He knew what America was thinking and frankly, he was right. "Listen, this is obviously getting us nowhere." He said; America eye's already beginning to shine once more. "Let's just leave it at that."

"Sounds good to me." America agreed, grabbing hold of one of England's hands.

"I have to leave soon." England announced again in a near whisper as he eyed their joined hands.

"Yeah." America responded just as silently before his face exploded into an even grander grin than before. "But, you know, Artie. You're always welcome back to my humble home." He winked.

"Humble?" The Brit questioned, the house was anything but that.

"Yup, and don't forget my shelter. You're always welcomed there. I have to keep you safe. It's a hero's duty."

England observed the American in front of him. He took in the shade of blond on his head, the energetic baby blue eyes, and the pearly white teeth. This was his last time to truly taken in the essence of America for quite some time. He wanted to remember it well, well enough to last him till next time. Taking one last quick look into the shiny blues, England finally opened his mouth and said, "It's still underneath the table."

"Oh, would you let that go!"

* * *

><p>AN:

1. Sweet rations officially ended in the UK on February 5, 1953 after 13 years. This is why you see England eating candy and chocolate throughout this chapter. I figured if you could finally eat all your favorite treats after years, you're going to eat it just because you can.

2. Korean War took place between June 25, 1950 to July 27, 1953, when an agreement to stop the fighting was signed.

3. President Franklin D. Roosevelt died on April 12, 1945, less than a month before VE-day on May 8, 1945. He is the only US president to have ever served more than 2 terms. He served 3 full terms and was in his fourth before his death. He was in office for more than 12 years.

3b. Roosevelt and Churchill were known to be very good friends. Churchill was upset after hearing of Roosevelt's death. "I felt as if I had been struck a physical blow." He had said. He also sent a message to First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt immediately after hearing the news stating, "I have lost a dear and cherished friendship which was forged in the fire of war. I trust you may find consolation in the magnitude of his work and the glory of his name."

4. On VE day in London, large crowds covered the city to celebrate. The king and queen celebrated alongside Churchill on the balcony of the palace while Princess Elizabeth (Now Queen Elizabeth II) and her sister Princess Margaret were allowed to wander through the crowd.

5. Yes, I am a believer that if personifications existed, Churchill would be supportive of England and America's relationship. So much that it would leave England uncomfortable, similar to a pushy parent. He did coin the phrase "special relationship" after all, and loved Americans. (His mother was American) He had wished to one day find a way for Americans and the British to have dual citizenships.

6. Mary of Teck was the queen consort of the UK, British Dominions, and Empress of India, and wife of King George V. She is Queen Elizabeth's grandmother. She passed away on March 24, 1953 at the age of 85.

6B."No, don't be. I'm sorry. She was really nice." "Yes, at times." There were some contradicting statements about her being both a kind caring mother and cruel and demanding.

7. After the death of Elizabeth's father, King George VI on February 6, 1952, she was proclaimed queen. Her coronation, however, did not take place until June 2, 1953. They believed it was inappropriate to have the coronation during the period of mourning. Her coronation was the first to ever be televised and the world's first major international event to be broadcasted. Across Britain people were able to watch the coronation live, while the England Electric Canberras flew film to Canada three times as the coronation proceeded, to allow them to watch it on the same day.

7B. There was military representation from different commonwealth countries that marched in the parade, including the Canadian Coronation Contingent. The Contingent comprised of members of the Canadian Forces and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

7C. Canadian soldiers serving in the Korean War used red, blue, and white colored smoke shells in order to acknowledge the coronation.

Churchill was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II on April 24, 1953.

8B. After his tern ended in 1945 it came as a shock when he lost for re-election. The main factor was people wanting peace after the war. They believed that Churchill though great at getting them through war was not the choice for leading them through peace. He didn't give up however, and was re-elected into office in 1951.

9. Converse shoes were big the 50's. High tops came first, late the low tops. Truthfully, I'm not completely sure when the low tops became available but, I see America really wanting to keep up with what's in. I really wanted America to go to a shoe store…No idea why…

10. The Cold War is in full swing and the US is in the middle of the second Red Scare. The Red Scare is a period when the US was experiencing a strong Anti-Communism. The Cold War took a turn in 1953 when both the US and Soviet Union had a leader switch. Dwight D. Eisenhower came in office and Joseph Stalin died, leaving Nikita Khruschev as the new leader. Khruchev actually started a de-Stalinization campaign while the US's defense budget quadrupled. American's were becoming increasingly paranoid, scared of a possible nuclear war.

11. Hydrogen bomb testing was done in the US in November 1952 while the Soviet Union started testing in August 1953. The UK of course not wanting to be left began its own nuclear program and started to test them as well. All the bombs testing going on by the US and the Soviet Union was alarming the UK government.

12. Duck and cover campaign. Duck and Cover was a short film created in 1951 and began to show in schools in 1952 in order to illustrate how to protect one's self in the event of a nuclear attack. People were instructed to duck and cover their heads with anything such as, newspaper. Kids in school were also taught to duck down underneath their desk, because wood is the strongest material in the world, beating out under the covers. It was obviously useless. It could help those farther away from the blast so not to get hit by falling debris, however.

12B. Now it is seen as Red Scare propaganda made to scare youngsters into being afraid of communist and the Soviet Union.

12C. I find England making a big deal of it in this chapter hilarious because even though this film is the only one of its kind, the UK made a somewhat similar film and given similar instructions in 1964.

13. "I love Lucy" was a very popular show in the 1950's and is still loved by millions today. The episode where Lucy gives birth to Little Ricky, "Lucy Goes to the Hospital", was first aired on January 19, 1953. It was watched by more people than any other program up to that time, beating out the ratings for Dwight Eisenhower's inauguration the following day on January 20, 1953.

14. "Marilyn" refers to Marilyn Monroe, An America actress, singer, model, and sex symbol of the time.


	2. 1954

A/N: Hello, welcome to chapter 2, it of course being about the 1954. It took me longer getting this out than I had hoped for, mostly due to procrastination and time management. I did some speedy proofreading so there may be a lot of mistakes, no worries I will edit much better soon. I also hope to get the next chapter done quicker. *crosses fingers*

Oh, there are both nation and human names in this chapter. I determine who uses what depending on the closeness and relationship between the two nations.

* * *

><p>"I don't want to be here—" America grumbled as he slumped down on his seat, loosening his tie on his way down. "Ugh, so boring." He said tossing a comic book with a pleasant looking apparition on the cover down onto the table.<p>

"You've been saying that since we've gotten here." England frowned in disapproval at America's lack of professionalism. "And would you sit up." America rolled his eyes at the Brit's stuffy comments but, still did what he was told.

"But we've been here for three weeks." He mumbled with a pout, readjusting his tie after seeing England target it with his eyes. Their break would soon be over and England would have a fit if his dress was not in tiptop condition. Some mother-henning he wasn't able to get rid of, America supposed.

"And we're going to have to be here for a lot longer so, I suggest you take things a little more seriously." England replied, already preparing his paperwork for the next round. Yet, not without grabbing and shoving the comic book into the American's arms.

"I don't know where you've been old man, but I've been taking this incredibly serious." He said throwing the book down into his pile of junk on the floor while stuffing a whole cookie into his mouth, England sighed.

"Perhaps, but you haven't been making this particularly easy." England handed him a nearby napkin. America looked confused about the gesture until finally wiping away the crumbs off his chin. "You're simply disregarding the opinions of those you don't agree with."

"That's because they're wrong."

"You can't be plainly black and white about this." England shook his head at America's stubbornness.

"I can if they're wrong." America answered, a matter of fact, lifting up a finger to demonstrate his 'point'. "You're not making it easy either." He gave the Brit a smirk.

"You want me to simply agree with you?" England asked with a scorn, already knowing the answer to his question.

"Yes, that would be awesome." America nodded, with a now a lopsided smile. It would make everything so much easier if everyone could just agree with his opinions because surely he was right.

"I'm not going to agree with you simply because you expect me to." England frowned deeply. He knew America wanted the others to agree with him but, it bothered him greatly that he expected England to, no matter what the circumstances. "I—"

"Ho ho, what do I see here?" said a voice, interrupting the Englishman's speech, as well as sending uncomfortable shivers down his spine. "Trouble in paradise, hm?" said the voice coming in closer to the couple that were seated on a large wooden table.

"Oh, sod off, Francis." England scoffed. "I don't want to listen to you before I have to." The irritated England glared, while America sat back and enjoyed the French-British relations.

"Oh, must you say such callous things?" France replied over-dramatically, placing a hand over his heart and the other through some strands of his hair. "You know, Arthur. If you were to let me join your tango, I could surely liven it up." He curled his lips and gave a wink as he went to place an overly caressing hand on the Brit's shoulder.

"Don't touch me, you frog." England exclaimed forcefully slapping the hand off him as if it were a bug that had landed on him. He even went as far as wiping his shoulders to remove the invisible residue that might have lingered. "As if I would ever let you anywhere near me."

"Ah, just you?" France leered. "This means you have no objection against me getting near little _Amérique_?" he said glancing over to the American, whose eyes widened, a half-eaten cookie hanging out of his mouth. He was caught by surprise; he wasn't expecting to get dragged into the European bickering just yet.

America quickly finished off the rest of the cookie as he witnessed England's face turn several shades of red. He was currently trying to say that he didn't want France's grungy hands anywhere near America without saying he didn't want France's grungy hands anywhere near America. France, meanwhile, was taking in all his mumbling with a fit of laughter. America found this highly amusing and England incredibly cute as he stumbled through his words. He would normally remain watching this as a form of entertainment but he knew he should probably sympathize with his irritable Brit, especially after seeing the two commie bastards near the door getting ready for the next part of the strenuous meeting. Besides, he really didn't want France anywhere near him anyways, who knew where he's been.

"I super object, man." America announced, raising his hand for attention. His proclamation earning him a sly smirk from the perverted Frenchman and a teeny tiny look of appreciation from the Brit. "No offense, France, but I really don't want you anywhere near my goods."

"What a shame then." France responded with a false look of disappointment. "I just wanted to remove all the stress you two were having."

"Ha. If you would please care to remember that one of the reasons we are here is because of one of your wars." England pointed out, recoiling slightly as France came down to his eye level.

"Mm…yes. This is true." He said too close for England's comfort. "But if you would please care to remember that your lover is the one backing me up." He finished, tapping England on the nose quickly before standing back up and heading towards his seat.

"Bastard." England muttered. America gave him a shrug and an apologetic look, holding his back slightly hunched over. That was until both Russia and China stepped through the door into the large conference room. At that, America immediately sat up straight and adjusted his glasses that didn't really need the tweak. It was time for round two.

/

They have been having this meeting for three weeks now, all starting April 26 and surely it would last longer. Switzerland was nice enough to let them over to have the conference. This conference was held in order to accomplish all they were unable to during the Berlin Conference earlier this year. It was hard for everyone to agree on any subject matter. They only managed to achieved a very few things in Berlin, such as Russia agreeing to leave Austria alone. The bigger issues such as, how to handle the Indochina war and the Korean unification were left to be further discussed.

This conference was to be more international as well. The regular members being America, England, France, Russia, and China, while others came in and out periodically depending on the topic for the day. More was being accomplished it seemed, but not without a challenge.

"So, it seems that we are agreeing with the declaration of Indochina receiving their independence." England noted, glancing over to France who gave him an awkward smile and shrug.

"It happens sometimes, doesn't it?" He said, as England sent him a small glare. "My citizens are getting highly distraught about it. It is a bit ironic that we are currently fighting our largest battle as we speak." He finished, releasing a deep sigh.

"Yes. Well, we'll have to continue this discussion at a later time. "England said, as he shuffled his paperwork over to whatever was next on the agenda. "For our next topic we will be going over the possibility of a Korean unification." He continued taking a quick glance at those present. They all looked exhausted after hours of discussions and disagreements, the only breaks they received being for meals. They seemed preoccupied with looking over their notes, yet England couldn't help but to notice America subtle glances towards their communist members.

He sighed softly as the group waited silently for a short moment. A quick rest, until the beautifully engraved double wooden door to the meeting room was opened. In an opening just enough for someone to squeeze through, two Asian nations came through and joined the already seated group. One of these nations promptly took their place next to the eldest Asian nation, while the other took their seat next to the American.

"North, South Korea. Thank you for joining us." England welcomed with a nod of the head. "Now that the war is over it is time to go over the chance of unification." He paused. "Now, does anyone have any suggestions on how this should be handled?" England didn't have a chance to finish before both South Korea's and America's hands promptly shot up into the air.

China huffed at their overzealous movements, crossing his arms and sitting back, North Korea following in his footsteps. Russia remained looking on intensely, the large grin never leaving his face.

"Yes, Korea?" England asked, getting a raised eyebrow from all the nations present, excluding Russia. England sighed. "South Korea." He emphasized, earning him a smile from said Asian.

"I propose that China leaves." South Korea said with a short break as he glanced over to notice his older brother's reaction. China, however, stayed emotionless. "That the UN Stick around and help supervisor the elections that will be held only in the north." Again he waited, this time taking a look at all of his surroundings. "Oh, and lastly, that South Korea is to be the only legal government of Korea." He finished off with a short lived smile as North Korea quickly stood up.

"What?" He shouted. "I'm Korea too. Why should you be the only one that gets to make legal decisions?"

"North Korea, please calm down." England said trying to placate the angered nation. North Korea turned his head over to the English speaker before once again taking his seat, not without another angry sneer at his other half. "We are just listening to proposals now. There is no need to get over worked over them." England desperately wanted to keep the meeting from getting out of hand.

"I think it's a great idea though." America spoke up giving South Korea a friendly shove. "I agree with South Korea's proposal. It only makes sense to leave it all him, doesn't it?" He asked, receiving a nod of approval from the Asian to his right while getting glares from across the table.

"I don't believe that I agree with you, Little America." Russia said with a smirk. "We can come up with a much better idea, _da_?"

"Okay, one. Would everyone quit calling me little? Two. I think you're wrong, but what else is new? This is obviously the best solution." America squabbled before a new awkward silence filled the room as Russia and America began an intense staring contest. The remaining nations watched on in a combination of both morbid fascination and trepidation. France, in particular was incredibly grateful that he had been temporarily forgotten during this section of the meeting. They're faces that held looks of concentration were slowing forming into equally bizarre grins. "The better government would be in charge." America finally continued after what it seemed to be an elongated minute.

Everyone's eyes turned to the Russian nation; sometimes America didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. Russia's grin only deepened as he openly stretched out his hands on the table in front of him. Unsure of what this gesture meant, America was just satisfied to know that he was reacting to his words. The staring continued and the tension in the room remained for a few more seconds until both nations prepared to open their respective mouths.

"I object." England said in a nonchalant matter, intertwining his fingers over the wooden table,sending waves of tension breaking vibrations of sound through the room. He was really waiting for America's reaction.

"What?" America shouted, turning over to face the British nation. He held a look of utter confusion as he now stared at England, waiting for him to reply. When he didn't, America decided to continue on. "What do you mean you object? You honestly can't be agreeing with them." He stated in a sheer horror. That couldn't possibly be the case. Could it? England was supposed to be on his side when it came to this. Communism couldn't win. England was as capitalist as you can get.

"I'm not." England answered assertively, trying to make it perfectly clear that it was not what the American had been thinking. "I never said I did, but your proposal is completely unreasonable." he finished, still leaving America with a mystified expression.

"Thank you, England." China said to the Brit with a small side and a tilt of the head. This sign of gratitude earning him a harsh look from the American.

"_Tch."_America scoffed, as he continued leering over the elder nation.

"I told you before." Said England, grabbing America's attention once more. "You can't simply disregard other's opinions. They are just as involved."

"Yeah, but—"America stopped mid-sentence, unknowing how to proceed with his statement. He couldn't find a means of saying that they should all just listen to him. Surely, England was mistaken and it was truly only him who was being reasonable. America persistently searched for words as England watched him struggle. It was not until China cleared his throat that their attention was once again brought over to the rest of the party.

"I wish you would leave your marital squabble at home-aru." China said bored, his head resting firmly on the palm of his hand.

"Oh, you're one to talk." America responded quickly. "I bet you were busy making out with Russia during our break."

"Alfred!" England's shout went to deaf ears, of course. He sighed. America couldn't help himself nowadays. He'd take a stab at the communist countries any chance he had.

"Ah, I can assure you that that did not happen _Little_ America." Russia responded. His awkward never-ending grin shined prominently on his face, causing America to quiver against his will and not to mention that he called him little once more."But I would not mind it." He pivoted over to get a good look at China, who was currently inching away.

"It's not going to happen."

"Ah ha." France laughed nervously. "It seems like we may have strayed just a tad, _non_?"

"Yes, Francis is right." England said, no matter how much it pained him to say it. "We have heard from one side." He took a glance to the respected nations. "Now, let us hear the other." He glanced across the table. "North Korea, do you have a proposal you'd like to share with us?"

"Yes." He answered, as he began to stack his paperwork neatly and cleared his throat into his hand before beginning. "I propose that elections are to be held through all of Korea, not just my half and it should be run by an all Korean commission as well." He finished with a shift nod of the head. "Also—"he continued, not giving the other nations the opportunity to respond. "I believe that all foreign nations must leave. You are not needed nor wanted." North Korea concluded his suggestion while staring directly into America's poker face. "Ah." England cut in. "Even if all foreign nations were to leave. I still believe there should be some sort of—surveillance."

"There could be a group of neutral nations supervising." China suggested, receiving a gesture of agreement.

"That is fine." North Korea answered with such monotone. It greatly complimented his expressionless face as he waited silently for the reactions that came just as soon as he thought they would.

"I object." South Korea and America said in near unison.

"Of course you do." North replied irritably. "Please, tell me why." He humored, but not without lifting up a hand before America as he readily opened his mouth. "Not you—you." He shifted his sights on his southern counterpart.

"It's a horrible idea. You just want everyone out so you can come after me again." He answered animatedly. "You seem to forget that you started all this." He crossed his arms as the other half narrowed his brows. "I don't understand why you don't like my proposal."

"Because you completely left me out of it!"

"Alright!" South started with his hands out in front of him, gesturing to the other Korean to stop. "How about elections throughout all of Korea?" North nodded. "But it all goes according to me." He ended with a smile.

"You're still leaving me out of it!"

"It sounds good to me. I see nothing wrong with his proposal." America proclaimed, receiving a quiet thank you from South Korea.

"It has everything you want, doesn't it?" North Korea replied with a snarl. He had no desire to speak with the American but unfortunately for the Asian nation, he played a rather large role.

"It sure does." America said smugly with a grin to match. "Who would want you to have full power? Who knows what you'll do with it?" With every word that left the American's mouth the deeper the frown on the Korean fell and the more the tension returned to the room. "You'd probably just try to push your communist agenda around South, here." He said, pointing his thumb over towards the southern half. "Then after that you'll go on to try with the rest of Asia."

"Alfred, I do suggest you calm down." America thought he heard England say in the background.

"Is that so?" North asked rhetorically, cocking a brow and his hands gripping his arm rest tightly. "What about you?" he asked, as America looked at him straight on, no clear expression. "Aren't you just pushing your agenda around by getting involved in every war that doesn't concern you?" And with that, it was now America's turn to glower.

The conference filled with an eerie silence as America's face phased through different colors and emotions before landing on a unique appearance. There was no name for the expression that America carried. It was neither anger, frustration, nor pride but a bizarre combination of the three. Exhaling, he rested his chin on the palm of his hand as he held up on the armrest. "You know. It's funny." He said, looking up towards the ceiling before returning his glaze back down towards the rest of the nations and laughed dauntingly. He removed his resting chin from his palm and instead leaned closely to the table. "I remember being reprimanded for not getting involved before." He laughed again shifting his sights quickly towards his former allies who only stared back. He quickly moved towards his remaining allies to his left, England inwardly frowning. "You should have gotten here sooner." He mocked.

"But now—Now, it's mind your own fucking business, America. Unless you're on our side, of course." He laughed again. "But you don't need me, right?" he smiled at North Korea as he sat back, watching and taking it all in quietly. "Not while you're Russia's puppet." He finished, his voice changing drastically. What had started out as quick and high, almost hysterical, switched to something low and steady.

The change in his tone was so sudden that additional seconds were needed to fully grasp what was said. However, the moment it was understood, North Korea and Russia wasted no time leaping off their seats. The Korean, unable to convince his mouth to move only snarled towards America who remained seated. He stayed unmoving, only eyeing the nations as they stared back at him with some sort of repressed fury.

Russia held a usual smirking grin that to anyone else would seem no different. Yet, with a careful eye and noteworthy experience, one could notice the malicious glimmer that radiated throughout his entire being. His violet orbs appeared to be smiling along with his lips while his arms, unmoving stayed planted at his sides. While North Korea remained content with his simple sneer, Russia could not resist a taunt the American. Once making eye contact, he tilted his head slightly to his right before widening his beam. "I can show you what I really do with puppets. Care to volunteer, _Mr. Jones_?"

"I'd like to see you try." America teased back as he literally sat at the edge of his seat, a smirk decorating his own face.

"I don't think that'll be necessary." England responded promptly as he stood up himself, placing a hand on America's shoulder, an attempt at keeping him calm.

"Ah, but Little America seems very excited to see puppets, _da_?" Russia said, making sure to drag out his last syllable in a condescending tone.

"But I can already see one." America replied, turning his head to the North Korean who continued to glare, unable to verbally express himself. "I can see how well you pull strings right here." At this, China had also reached his limit with the American. Shooting straight up to join his allies, China gripped on the edge of the table in front of him.

"And what about you?"

"What about me?" America asked, confused about China's question.

"You really don't believe that you are simply using South Korea as a puppet?" China asked, taking a look at the Asian across from him, South Korea catching his big brother's sight. "Manipulating him to think like you." He finished, his attention returning to his original target.

"Don't compare me to you!" America scoffed loudly. "All you communist are all the same—"

"I think—" England interrupted loudly, gaining everyone's attention. "I think this is enough for now." He announced sharing a look with China who nodded in agreement. "Emotions are running high. A long rest will do us all some good."

"Yes, that is an excellent idea." Straightening himself up and flipping his ponytail back, China nodded once again. "We should go now and come back refreshed. " He said rehashing the suggestion. The nations on either side of him showed approval by grunting a '_yes'_ and _'da'_ respectfully.

As the three communist countries gathered their belongings and made their way through the large wooden double doors,England released a sigh of relief as he sat back down on his chair. He covered his face in one hand as the other gently rubbed his temples. He was incredibly grateful that the dreaded day was over. He could feel that he was being watched by the American and Frenchman on either side of him but, he chose to ignore their presence for a moment longer.

"Well—" South Korea started, America turning towards him. "That didn't go too bad, right?" he said, causing what sounded like a groan come out of the tense Brit, who decided that messaging both of his temples was the right move.

Not being able to waste a moment such as this, France leaned in over his own arm rest and towards the distracted England. "You know, Arthur." He whispered seductively into his ear. "If you'd like, I coul—"

"Not ever." England proclaimed quickly, removing his hand from his temple and into the Frenchman's face while removing himself from his chair and stomping his way out the doors.

The three remaining nations watched on as the door closed with a loud slam before the room immediately fell into silence. Awkwardly, they stared at the now shut door for several minutes, unknowing what their next move should be.

After a few more second of stillness, France turned to the American. He earnestly felt for the boy, he would have his work cut out for him. He knew full well the wrath of the Englishman "Good luck with that later."

"Yeah…"

* * *

><p>"I don't want to be here." England immediately heard after stepping into an ample sized lobby room.<p>

The conference was still going on, now in mid-May, and they were all sure there were more months to come. The day's meeting had been over for a couple of hours, all nations had dispersed to their own quarters or went off to do their own things. America would often insist that he and England go out to eat dinner. Being stuck in a room for the majority of the day discussing boring things gave one an appetite, he'd say. This day had been different.

America was nowhere in sight once the meeting was adjourned. One minute he was standing next to the Brit and the next he was gone. The only time he had to flee unnoticed was the few seconds it took England to gather and pack up his things into his briefcase. He remained in the room briefly, waiting for the American to return, believing he had just run off to the restroom. After deciding that he was not going to be coming back and that he was not hiding underneath the table, England stepped out in his search.

After searching throughout all restrooms the building held and the empty conference rooms on the floor, England decided to call their hotel, where he received no answer. He was going to soon give up on his search and head towards their hotel. Surely, America would have to return to it eventually. That was until England remembered a nice lobby room on the first floor of the building. America had found it initially; excited about finding a place he could 'hide out' during meetings.

It was of decent size, decorated plainly with only several lamps, a patterned burgundy rug, coffee table, and a dark brown couch that America was currently sitting on. The only real luxury was the television set sitting at the front of the room, it remained off however. Holding America's attention instead was the newspaper in his hands.

"You always say that." England responded wearily. The upset he was feeling about going on a goose chase slowly deteriorating. There was something about America's demeanor that told England that this wasn't just one of America's usual fit of whining. His slumped shoulders gently shook as he sniffed several used all the will inside of him to suppress his desire to tell him to use a tissue.

"But I mean it this time." He replied as England set his briefcase down and made his way around the couch, still unable to see if face.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing." America said surprisingly soft, finally lifting his head and looked over to the concerned England. "Nothing at all."His eyes were beginning to develop a red hue and small droplets were still finding their way out, yet they remained shining. They were not shining because of their dampened state but because of an inner joy America seemed to be radiating. "I just wish I was at home right now." He said standing up, the paper still being held in his left hand.

"Why?" England asked confused, at the sight of America now pacing throughout the room. "What happened?"

"It's a start. It's definitely a start." America said mostly to himself as he continued to walk aimlessly, scratching his head. "Things can only get better after this, right?" He asked, stopping his step suddenly and faced the still bemused England, pleading for some sort of reassurance.

America's desperate plea warmed England's heart. America's ability to maintain a positive innocence after everything he had been throughis what he found charming. He only wished he knew what he was being asked about. Not being told his reason for his current manners was slowly frustrating the Brit. "America, I don't know what you're talking about."

"They're all mine." America said, shedding a tear. "I want them to get along."

Unable to stand not knowing, England promptly stepped forward and snatched the newspaper out of the American's hands. Catching him by surprise due to his own distraction, America simply looked down at his now empty hand before turning his attention towards the Brit. "High court bans school segregation." England said, reading the headline off The New York Times. "Alfred…" he said softly, looking up at him, over the paper.

"It's great, isn't it?" America smiled, leaning on the back of the couch.

"It's wonderful." England said joining him. "This has always bothered you." He handed the newspaper back to America. He had arranged for it to be sent to him every day, he wanted to stay in touch with what was going on at home.

"Yeah, but I'm scared." America replied, looking back down at the headline. "I just hope this makes everything better not—you know—worse." He sighed.

"At least Russia can't use it against you anymore." England mentioned, America agreeing with him with a smile.

The whole world knew of America's segregation among his people. His supposed, separate but equal doctrine. Though his government had ran like this for many years, he did not. America himself could not agree with something that divided his people. To him they were all his citizens and thus cared for them all equally so, he could not fathom a way to separate it. However, his government and even some of his people believing in segregation had been used against him for years. Russia, in particular has used it as propaganda against him since the 40's. A nation preaching freedom and rights to a nation who they claimed repressed them was seen as highly hypocritical.

"But do you really think this will change things?" America asked, again facing England with his worried, begging eyes.

"I think it's a start." The older nation said. "It's going to take some time." America had been struggling with this issue for many years and a simple decision was not going to change everything. Change doesn't happen instantly and this he knew well. If that were the case, the world would be much easier to run. America knew this too, surely. He just needed a glimmer of hope. "But I know it can be done." He said, placing an encouraging hand on the American's shoulder.

"Thanks, Artie." America whispered, entering them into a comfortable silence. That was until an almost mischievous grin found its way onto America. "I can still shove it in Russia's face."

"No." England said very clearly, immediately grabbing the other's attention. "You are going to have to behave yourself." He said starting his lecture, America having to reply with a roll of his eyes."Don't roll your eyes at me." England continued, causing America to laugh and swoop around until he was standing in front of the Brit, facing him.

"Aw, come on. I'm not that bad." He rationalized. It's not like a fight has broken out or anything. If that happened then maybe England had a reason for lecturing him, even if they did deserve it."Just giving the reds a hard time." He smirked, grabbing England around the waist after setting the newspaper nicely on the top of the couch's back.

"You are going to get yourself into trouble." England said, crossing his arms, ignoring the hands on him.

"Oh, you like it when I argue." America said teasingly as he leaned closer into the Brit's personal space.

"I most certainly do not." England argued back while attempting to step back before remembering that he was blocked in by the couch. _'Blasted.'_ he thought, who would put that there? "All it does is showcase just how immature you are." He said, trying to distract the American from his intentions. That, and he really did believe that he was simply illustrating how young and inexperienced he truly was. "Truthfully, I'm quite embarrassed."

"Don't deny it." America smirked, the distraction clearly not working. "Doesn't it just chill ya'?" He said in a near whisper, sending rapid butterfly touches up both of England's arms. The quick tickling sensation creating small clusters of goose bumps that ran throughout his limbs.

"I don't even know what that means." England stuttered out, turning his head to the side, trying to completely avoid eye contact with the American. This was neither the place nor the time, but he was finding it increasingly hard to overlook the hands now holding him at the elbows. "Can't you take anything seriou—"

"I can show you." America hissed huskily into the shorter man's ear, sending a wave of shudders down his spine. Once the quivers ended their trail, England cursed himself for reacting and immediately began to glare. He then cursed America for being a cheeky bastard seeing as he continued to grin.

"That won't be necessary." England said, trying to make his way out of the corner he currently found himself in. He managed to push America way and nearly succeeded in escaping before the hands found their way around him once more. America had no intention of letting him go anywhere. This was too fun and they hadn't had a chance for that in a while. The endless meetings were taking its toll on everyone. "Alfred—" England warned in the same tone he always used to demonstrate that he had had enough.

"Arthur—" America mimicked badly causing England to glowered directly into America's eyes, willing him to let go. Believing that it was working as America's bold smile seemed to dim, England began to pull back. This of course did not work, for America only increased his hold and cocked both of his eyebrows twice—England cracked.

"Not now." He laughed involuntarily as America again closed in on his personal bubble. "Not now." He repeated in vain.

"I think now is a perfect time." America countered, leaning in much further.

"It's not…" England argued back breathlessly, despite the fact that he was helping close the gap between them. He lifted his arms, grabbing onto America's biceps as hands held his lower back with a gentle strength. America inclined down, England stretching up as they neared each other slowly. They stopped only mere centimeters away, their breaths sending either a coffee or tea scented breeze upon the others face. They stood so close that the slightest movement would cause their lips to softly brush. They stood like that, nearly pressed onto each other letting some sort of passive passion overcome them until England let out a deep exhale. With that, America let a final smile dance across his face before deciding that it was indeed the perfect time to fully close any space between them.

"Look a room!"

Within half a second the two nations found themselves splitting apart faster than they ever could have imagined. America had moved away so quickly, with the help of England's push, that he needed the support of the sofa before tumbling down. He was incredibly grateful that the furniture was heavier then it appeared and didn't tip over along with him, didn't want to have to explain that. He turned swiftly to their new found company, who looked back at him and smiled. They hesitantly smiled back just before turning their glaze onto the other man.

England stood across the other side of the room with his arms crossed. "Yes." He coughed, clearing his throat into his closed fist. "It is a room." He said before making his way out the door, leaving the American to stand alone awkwardly.

Finally coming to, America chuckled, grabbed both of their belongings and followed the speedy Englishman out. He couldn't resist taking a look back the three men that still stood confused by the doorway. "That was smooth." America teased, prodding England in the back with his own briefcase.

"Oh, belt up."

* * *

><p>"I can't accept this." England announced while looking at two long written proposals out in front of him.<p>

"Why not?" China asked, not needing to raise his voice to hear that he was not happy with England's decision. "Does it not have all you want?"

As the conference would indeed continue, this marked the last day they would discuss the possibility of Korea unifying. There had been proposals and declaration going in and out the entire day, all rejected for one thing or another. It was insanely difficult to please two sides that contained such different points of view. After an already long day there was still no end in sight and no agreement seemed imminent. Yet, they all knew. They all knew that today was the day. Something or nothing had to be done.

Hours of disagreements and near fights between two specific super powers were wearing everyone down. So, in order to finally maybe end all of it, China and Russia made a surprising declaration. They did not only support a unified and independent Korea. They supported a democratic Korea.

"I'm not rejecting your ideas." England declared, not taking his eyes off the papers set in front of him. "I just can't accept you declaration."

"What does that even mean?" China was not at all satisfied with England's response. He deemed it an endless circle of unanswered questions. Did he like it or not? If not, what is the meaning of 'not rejecting your ideas?' If he did, why decline it?

"It means no." America replied candidly, getting an evil eye from everyone in the room, including England and France. Three months and he still hadn't been able to pick the ability of holding his tongue.

"It is a very bad way to say it, no?" Russia asked tauntingly. If America could not control how he spoke, Russia could still not control how he replied. The both being in a single room for hours at a time was the cause of the many arguments, near fights, and long lasting staring challenges. No, not much had changed at all. "It sounds as if you like it, but can not be accepted because it is mine." He smiled.

"I can assure you that that is not the case." England said, sliding the declarations back across the table as they were eyed wearily.

"Then what exactly is the case-aru?" China said, sitting back in his seat while intertwining his fingers across his chest, leaving the documents untouched. Intrigued by the question, Russia smiled further, sitting up straight with his hand fully planted on the arm rests of the chair.

"There are things we can't agree with." America interjected, mirroring China's way of sitting. China frown deeply, unsure if it was coincidental or a form of mockery.

"Really?" China asked not convinced. "So, tell me. What are the things?" Russia nodded wordlessly next to him. He stayed unmoving, refusing to blink as he waited for the reply that never came. Instead, a spell of silence filled the room as America refused to dignify the question with an answer. Instead of muttering a word he returned to responding with a glance, however, China had never been one to play games the way his comrade did. "Interesting." He hummed, cocking his brow. "So, it is safe to assume that your lack an answer means that you are indeed disagreeing simply to disagree?"

"_Tch_, don't flatter yourself." America clicked his tongue.

"Well, then?" China asked. "Can't you just admit that the proposal is fine? Many other nations have already agreed. If you agree to it now we can choose the best time and place to further discuss this so it may finally be done." China continued, shifting his position. He now moved over closer to the wooden table, his way of making certain that the America knew full well that he was speaking directly to him. He watched intently as America turned back to look at the much older nation and shook his head before turning back.

"No."

China slapped the table before him. "Now what?" China asked loudly, finally losing the composure he held so diligently. "That's it?" He asked rhetorically, never expecting anyone to open their mouths. He scanned around the conference room to see everyone avoiding eye contact with everyone else. "So, we have nothing?" He asked once again not anticipating anything but silence in return.

"I hope you can see—" China continued, looking directly at England, the first nation on the opposite side to look up. "I hope you see that if there is any reason why this couldn't end nicely, it was him." He said as he pointed to America, who continued to look away.

* * *

><p>"Don't tell me you wouldn't like being home right now." America asked England who sat next to him.<p>

"It would be nice." England replied, putting down the book he had been reading. It was something about rings. "But it's not like I'm not going to see it here—and this." He paused momentarily to take in his surroundings. "It's beautiful."

As the conference continued, they were lucky enough to receive the day off. It was a special occasion after all. Today, three continents will be able to witness a total eclipse. Though being home would make this event extra special the luscious green that rolled for acres did make a nice back up.

"It is." America admitted, touching down to feel the grass between his fingers. "But this is the first time you've had an eclipse at home in forever."

"Yes, but I've been around for a long time. I've seen my share. This is just fine." England replied, stretching his legs out in front in.

"Yeah, you are pretty old." America said, not being able to resist the joke. He smiled brightly at the half-hearted leer England sent his way, knowing he was in too good of a mood to really get upset. America sighed happily as he lied down and spread himself out on the blanket it below him. This was just what he needed, a nice warm day in the sun and soon to be no sun. America giggled to himself over his clever thought.

It was very surprising when they all agreed to take the day off. Many believed it was a combination of being able to see something so rare and just needing a break that convinced everyone. England was particularly excited about the event though he tried to down play it. He wasn't doing a very good job at it, however. The moment they stepped into their hotel rooms the night before he began preparing all the items they would need for the outing. He gathered the blanket (he brought from home for this very occasion), some entertainment (a few books and graphic novels), a few snacks (America couldn't go without these), and the pinhole boxes (two, that he also brought from home). Yes, he did a marvelous job at suppressing his enthusiasm.

"Did you know," England began, drawing America's attention away from the dragon with two tails and a horn shaped cloud. "They said that America would cast its shadow upon Europe during the eclipse."

"Aw…I miss myself." America exclaimed as he sat back up, receiving a strange look. "I'm coming to visit me." America attempted to explain, the bewildered look never leaving England's face."Since I can't be in—me." He finished with a hum, making it apparent that all he had managed to do was confuse himself. "Or…"he continued, ready to give this another shot. "I could be coming over here so you and me can be super together."

"Hush up." England said, handing America one of the boxes. "Here. It should be starting soon."England smiled, no matter how ridiculous and how little sense America's comment made, it was sweet.

* * *

><p>"This is it." England was standing next to the same table that had sat around for the last 4 months. He stood surrounded by several other nations who all gathered around a document. "You lost, Francis." He said to France who shrugged in response.<p>

"I suppose I have." He replied solemnly. "It will now be official." He was taking the situation rather well, having already seen it coming.

"I can't believe we agreed on something." England said, truly amazed. With the track record they had the entire conference it came as a big shock when a decision was made at last.

The ceasefire was signed, thus making the Indochina war over. France lost the war, of course. His pride damaged more then anything from being beaten by a rebel group. England, however, just couldn't bring himself to feel much sympathy. Vietnam was now independent and Cambodia and Laos were also given the opportunity to run themselves. Vietnam was to temporary divided, there were still those who supported France. Yet, they would soon unify after holding elections, Vietnam was ready to have her country complete. That and much more of the agreements were written on the document they gathered around. All that was needed for it to truly become official was the signatures.

"There." England said as he handed the pen over to the waiting Frenchman after signing his own name. The majority of the involved nations had already done so, now standing aside conversing with one another.

It was the last day of the conference and everything was unusually calm. There were no outbursts and no consistent bickering; the four long months were finally over. Everyone was thrill and anxious to finally be able to go home that they didn't bother to start any unnecessary arguments.

"And that is that." France said looking down at his name. "_Amérique_." He called over to the younger nation standing close to him, only a few steps to the side. "It's all yours." France handed the pen over, America being the last of the nations.

"I'm not doing it." America proclaimed with a shake of the head, refusing the pen.

"Pardon?" France asked extremely confused, unsure whether he had heard correctly.

"I'm not signing it." America clarified, gaining looks from the nations close enough to hear the commotion. A few began to mutter to themselves, stealing short glances over to the stubborn American.

"Just sign it, Alfred." America turned away from the nations he knew were gossiping about him and looked over to the Brit near him. "Just sign it." He repeated.

"No." America raised his voice. France was beginning to hate his current position in between the both. Well, he hated it in this instance. He could think of other times when he would enjoy it. But, this was not the place to think of those moments, especially since he had no chance of them happening.

"Alfred…"

"Look. I acknowledge it, okay?" America emphasized, France looking back and forth between the two nations. "I'm just not signing it." He paused, waiting for a reply that didn't come. "I just don't want to be legally bound to it."

"Fine." England sighed. No need to start the arguments now. "Ah, I wanted to ask." England started. "Would you like to come over to London before going home, now that this is all over?" England asked towards the American, almost shyly.

"Uh, you know I'd usually love to, Artie." America said, happy about the change in subject. "But I think I just want to get back."

"Oh." England nodded, looking slightly down and away. "Of course." He said, fidgeting ever so lightly. With a close eye one could tell that he was obviously uncomfortable or at least a tad bit nervous. France, who prided himself in being able to notice these little clues, picked them up rather quickly. America and his clear inability to read people was a different case, however. "I just thought it would be a good idea to cook us a real meal." His glaze still vaguely skewed. "After eating anything we would get here."

"No offensive, Artie."America smiled. "But I probably wouldn't eat it anyways." He laughed at his own joke. Now all that he had to do was to wait for England's comeback. To America's grand surprise, England's reply was not at all what he had expected. He was anticipating for England to get worked up, to spew his usual squabble about him being the one with the lask of taste, their usual routine. However, this time around England simply nodded in return.

"Yes. Well, alright then." England said strangely tamed before making his way towards the group of other nations across the room.

"Ah, _Amérique_, my friend." France said, placing a friendly hand on the younger nation's shoulders. "You are a fool." He nicely proclaimed.

"What?"

"Tsk tsk." France shook his head in disbelief. "You should learn to catch up on the news on those other then yourself."

"What?" France sighed.

"Have you not noticed that our sweet Arthur looks different?" France asked, glancing over to England, who was now holding a conversation with China. "Does he not appear—fuller?" France turned to America as he waited for his response. He noticed America staring at England intently, a clear face of confusion accompanying him. America could make out something different about the Brit, just could not pin point what it was. "He has his old glow, _Amérique_." France continued. "He has at last regained the nice meat on his bones." France said while holding his hands out in front of him, making an apparent and highly inappropriate grabbing gesture.

"Aw, man. Stop that." America knocked the overly suggestive Frenchman's hands down. "Not cool."

"Yes, he is your lover, _non_?"

"Ah, no." France cocked a brow. "He hates that word." America explained.

"Of course he does." France nodded. "But you obviously do not understand me. You do not, correct?" He asked, but only received a plain stare. "He wants to cook a real meal because he finally can." He said, waiting for America to at last connect his words. He could see the American's mind working, trying to grasp all that he had been told. It took a couple of seconds but, his eyes finally widened in comprehension.

"Rations." America whispered to himself. He had been too busy with the conference to follow other happenings. Not that he ever did, it took him a while to understand England's sudden obsession with candy a year ago. Yet, now that he was taking all of England in, he finally noticed that England's healthy weight had indeed returned. His clothes no longer appeared to be two sizes too large; they now fit as they should. His face did not have the hollow and slightly elongated look. It had returned to its normal round and more importantly—he was no longer a frightening pale. His cheeks again had their healthy hue. America had no idea how long he had been entranced with the Brit in front of him. It was not until he heard a cough from the man beside him that he returned to the real world. "I'm a jerk."

"Yes." France agreed, getting a sarcastic thanks from the American that was leaving his side. "I should start a help service."

* * *

><p>"Oh no, sir. You don't look a day after 60."<p>

"Ah, my boy, you know how to flatter them," Said the stout older man with a boast of laughter as he gave America a friendly yet sturdy smack on the back. England clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, watching it play out from behind the two men. "I bet you even compliment this one on those brows of his." The man turned to his right, searching for the British nation. "Now, where—ah there you are." He said once catching a glimpse of England's movements. "Isn't that right, Arthur?" He asked, pulling England over to his side, a heavy hand around his shoulders.

"Not quite, sir." England answered shooting American the evil eye, America countering back with a toothy grin.

"Don't listen to him." The older man told America, completely disregarding England's words. "He's just a little prudish." America nodded as the man released the British nation from his hold. "He won't admit it but he's actually quite smitten."

"It's okay. I can tell." America gave a wink.

Meanwhile, England was fuming, knowing his face was a fury red from embarrassment. He muttered to himself angrily, hating how they spoke as if he was not right beside them. This always happened when the two got together. One would praise, the other would suck up, all while either ignoring him or humiliating him. It wasn't fair. That was his boss.

It was British Prime Minister Sir Winston Churchill's 80th Birthday celebration. It was a grand event where many gathered to commemorate his birth and achievements. England should be having a blast or at least drinking it up. There was plenty of alcohol; it was no secret that Churchill was a fan. Something he and his boss had in common, but he always believed that being pissed drunk in front of public officials probably wasn't the best idea. So that left England with no other choice but to listen to their irritating banter.

"And it looks that you are a tad infatuated yourself, young man." Churchill elbowed America who only blushed back. "I approve, of course. In fact, I'd like it if you could become much more serious. I was attempting to give Arthur some much needed advice when it came to the matter of intimacy but, you could picture how that went." America nodded and smiled uncomfortably, remembering England's reaction to that conversation. "It turned into him stuttering for over an hour."

"Yeah." America laughed nervously, making England incredibly happy about it being America's turn to be embarrassed. "So…sir, how have you been?" America said in his horrible attempt at changing the subject, England couldn't help but to smile and shake his head.

"Could be better, could be worse." Churchill answered simply. "How is old Ike treating you? That stubborn man."

"He's treating me good." America laughed. Churchill wanted the "Special Relationship" (the political one) to continue strong, yet he and President Eisenhower had some work to do.

"Good to hear." He said patting America on the shoulder once more. "I heard Ellis Island has closed."

"That's right." America replied, sounding less bright. "It's a little sad. I got a lot of good citizens from there."

"Yes, but it'll now go down in history and you will always remember what you have done for those people." Churchill said, America instantly regaining his joyful appearance as he gave a great thanks to the Prime Minster. England again took his time to scoff at the disgusting display.

"Oh, sir. You know what else is sad? The Lone Ranger ended. The Radio one anyways." America pulled out randomly with a sigh. England rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time, he had truly lost count. America had been morning the loss of the Lone Ranger for days and unfortunately for England he was the one that had to listen to him whine. Ranger this, Tonto that, American icon blah blah.

"The long series about the masked hero?" Churchill asked, pretending to be interested.

"Yes, that's the one." America sighed again before going into a play by play of the last episode. The tables had turned; it was now the Prime Mister's turn to nod and smile.

"He cried." England said interrupting America's spiel, the two turned to him, remembering he was there for the first time in the last few minutes. He coughed into his closed fist, feeling awkward about the eyes on him.

"No, I didn't." America said unconvincingly, causing Churchill to laugh.

"Of course you didn't." He said, knowing the truth. "Well, it is time for me to go on and mingle AND get a drink or two." Churchill held out his hand, America gladly accepting the handshake. "Have a good time."

"Will do, sir." America replied to the retreating man.

"Oh." Churchill stopped in his tracks, looking back to the American. "Pay attention to Arthur. I think he's getting jealous."

And with that, the Prime Minister left their side, leaving England once again red in the face.

* * *

><p>AN:

1: The Geneva Conference of 1954 was held in Geneva, Switzerland from April 26 to July 20. The main purpose for the conference was to find a way to unify Korea and to discuss peace in Indochina. It was held after no real progress was made during the Berlin Conference in January.

a. Korea- June 15 was the last day of the conference for the Korean question. China and USSR did support a unified, democratic and independent Korea and the British delegate did say "that while they were not going to accept the proposals that it did not mean a rejection of the ideas they contained. After discussing all the possible proposals for a unified Korea none was ever adopted. Korean is still divided. Many participants blame the US for blocking the chances of a peaceful agreement.

b. Indochina- The Indochina War took place from December 19, 1946 to August 1, 1954 with ceasefire signed on the last day of the Geneva conference. The war was a rebel Vietnamese group fighting for independence from France. The United States supported France while China and the Soviet Union the Republic of Vietnam. Ultimately, France lost and agreed to move out all troops. French Indochina was then split into the countries of Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia. Vietnam was to temporary be split into two with Communist Vietnam on the north and still French supporting in the south, not too different from Korea. They were to be unified after elections were held, they never were. Instead, the conflicts between the north and south eventually led to the Vietnam War. United States delegate did refuse to sign the agreement, not wanting to be legally bound.

2. Brown VS Board of Education was a decision made on May 17 by the United States Supreme Court. The Ruling declared that states laws that separated schools for black and white students were unconstitutional. This ruling began a great shift in the United States as it paved the way for integration and the Civil rights movements. The quote is from the real New York Times Headline.

3. Solar eclipse of June 30, 1954. It was a total solar eclipse that was seen by three continents, North America, Europe, and Asia. It also marked the first time Britain would witness an eclipse since 1927.

4. Winston Churchill became the first and only thus far Prime Minster to reach 80 while in office on November 30th.

a. For some reason I see England being like an embarrassed teenager who has to listen to his dad talk to his popular jock boyfriend when America and Churchill get together. Don't ask me why...

5. The Comic Book Code of 1954. Government officials, religious leader, and others had voiced concern over the violence rising in comic books. They believe they only promoted juvenile delinquency thus came up with a code. This censored comic books quite a bit, bringing the sales for them down. It was also when more tame comics like Casper the Friendly Ghost stared popping up. Casper had been around since 1949 however.

6. The Lord of the Rings was published on June 6, 1954. That was the something about rings book England was reading.

7. Food rations in the UK officially ending on July 4, 1954 after 14 years.

8. Sino-British relations. During the Conference the British and Chinese delegations agreed to upgrade their diplomatic relations.

9. Ellis Island in New York Harbor was the gateway for immigrants coming into the United States. It was the nation's busiest immigrant station from 1892 until its close on September 12, 1954. It is said that almost 450,000 immigrants were processed at the station during its first year and 12 million by its close. It has been turned into a museum since then.

10. The lone Ranger was originally a popular radio series about a masked Texas Ranger who fights crime. It first appeared in 1933 with its last new episode being on September 3, 1954. Its success spun a TV series, starting in 1949. It is now become an icon of American culture.


	3. 1955

A/N: Yeah…I suck…I'll just leave it at that…BUT…though I did take forever to post this at least I think—I think—it's better them my last chapter. I hated my last chapter, just felt so incredibly rushed to me.

So….please enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Are you crying?" An astonished England asked the American who sat next to him at the large dining table. It was a fine crafted, sturdy table, long enough to seat many people and there was a great amount of people currently present. Covering the beautiful mahogany wood was a clean white table cloth that nicely complimented the golden colored candleholders in the center. Lastly, the table was filled with a large number of plates, one for each guest. They all held the night's dinner in a creative, culinary masterpiece, which due to their being English in nature seemed not too appealing to the American.<p>

"No." America answered with a mousey squeak, despite his insufferable sniffling, his weepy looking eyes, and mawkish pout.

"It's just food, Alfred. Eat it." England said firmly, only pushing around the food on his own plate. It wasn't that he disliked the meal; this was a fine British cuisine. Any person would appreciate its exquisite taste. He just happened to be slowly losing his appetite as the night progressed.

"You know the food isn't the reason why I'm crying," Said the blue-eyed blonde as he continued his pout. "Even though I'm not." He quickly added, because he wasn't. Really, he wasn't. Maybe he was a little teary but he had nothing trembling down his face, thus did not count as crying.

England sighed, "I know." He didn't bother to argue, he knew full well the cause of the American's dreariness and it was indeed not the food.

"Are you crying?" America asked, glancing over to take a good look at the Englishman. Besides the normal crease of his brow and the slight twinge of irritation of knowing that he was being observed, he looked generally normal. This only made America's frown deepen, he was expecting a much more emotional display, if you will.

"Of course not." England replied, never taking his eyes off the brussel sprouts he was shoving into a little pyramid on the side of his plate. America looked on worriedly; playing with your food was one of England's major no-noes.

"You can cry if you want to." America told him reassuringly, as if relaying this fact would instantly create a flood of waterworks. That did not happen of course. Instead, England simply sighed as his tower of little cabbages came crashing down.

"That won't be necessary." England finally responded after a short pause as he restarted his construction project.

"Because...It's okay if you do." America stuttered out, placing a comforting hand on the Brits shoulder, only to have it shrugged away. America sighed at England's passive aggressive way of saying to leave him alone. He knew that the Brit was holding in how he really felt, pretending he was fine. England has always had an inability to express his feelings, his mood being a constant rollercoaster of emotions. He also never wanted to appear weak; he had too much pride for that.

America became accustomed to England's see-sawing after the many years of knowing the Brit. He knew that just like some of his southern states, if he didn't like the weather all he had to do was wait five minutes, even if it did get irritating at times. However, America having no skills when it came to reading the mood still left it difficult to determine what England was feeling. Luckily, it was easy in this case. He knew exactly how and why he was feeling the way he was. Now, the only problem was that America also lacked skills when it came to comforting another. Sure, he could be joyous, make others laugh, cheer people up with his awesomeness (Others would say annoying banter), yet when it came down to truly giving another a few comforting words, he failed.

"Really…" America said, once again placing his hand on England's shoulder. He was relieved when it wasn't shrugged off. "You can just let it all out. Cry until you're—you know—all gross looking." He smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood. It quickly deteriorated when England sharply turned to finally face him, England's scowl ever present as he held a look of disbelief.

England knew America wasn't the best at giving pep talks. Hell, England knew he wasn't good at giving any. His idea of an encouraging chat was to become a stuttering mess as he patted the other's back and let out words like 'There there'. Yet, he tried to steer clear of insulting the other person, unless the other person happened to be France. Then it just became a regular part of the healing process. "I'm fine," He said sternly, swatting the hand off of him. "I don't need your terrible attempt at being wise." England scoffed.

"Well, I wasn't really trying to be wise." America said giving a lopsided smile and a hesitant laugh that slowly decreased in volume until its awkward end. England looked on with his eyes half-lit with obvious boredom and shook his head.

"Of Course." He muttered, returning his sights back onto his meal. This time instead of creating a work of constructed art he let his utensil stab through the contents before taking a bite. He grimaced at the taste of his now cold food but, he continued to chew and swallow anyhow. He was not about to spit his food out.

"Aw, come on, Arthur." America gave a friendly shake of the shoulder. England eyed the hand on him with great intensity. Hoping that if he stared hard enough it would somehow catch on fire or possibly fall off, that would be interesting. "It'll make you feel better."

"I feel fine." He gritted through his teeth. "If anything is making me feel bad, it's your constant blabbering." He said, once again removing himself from the American's touch. "So, if you could kindly shut your mouth." He lowered his voice. "You are surrounded by very important people." He said glancing around at all the influential people that filled the large dining room, including his monarch.

"But—"

"Alfred!" England said to him in a whispered yell that promptly quieted the younger nation.

"Alright, alright." America lifted his hands up in front of himself in defense. "I'll just leave you alone." He said and returned to his own plate. He glared at his food as he poked around it with his fork, trying to figure out what exactly it was. He knew he should have snuck in some of his own food.

Meanwhile, England released a breath of relief. He no longer had to be badgered by the exasperating America, who did not know when it was time to stop. He could finally enjoy the rest of his meal in the silence he had hoped for, even if it was now cold and thus, not very appetizing. It didn't change the fact that he now realized that he really was hungry. His stomach was asking for the food that his brain had been ignoring throughout the day. Ready to comply to his stomach's needs, he lifted a neat portion onto his silverware, ready to take a bite.

"The food is still disgusting though."

"Oh, for heaven's sakes!" England shouted while tossing his silverware down, causing a clatter of noise once it made contact with his porcelain dinner plate. His breathing was coarse, his face burning, and his eye stung. He blinked several times as he stared at the fork he had thrown, refusing to lift his head. The room had become eerily silent. He knew full well that his little outburst had gained him much unwanted attention. After what seemed like hours, England tilted his head just enough to see America looking back at him. America stayed stunned, his eyes wide as he continued to hold his own fork in mid-air. He hadn't expected that outcome. After another long moment or what seemed like one, England shifted forward once more, bowed his head even lower, and excused himself softly.

America followed England with his eyes as he made his way out of the elaborate room. He walked at a brisk pace but not daring to go any faster or slower, knowing that either of those would only cause more attention to be drawn to him. When he reached the doors he hesitated, his hand gripping the handle for several seconds before pulling it open and taking a step out.

America, who had watched the display until the very end turned back to face the remaining guests. He was surprised to see them all returning his glaze. America was not one to get easily embarrassed but there was something about having all those eyes on him that made him a bit self-conscious. America chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced around the room. His eyes locked on to the gentlemen sitting in front of him simply because he happened to be in front of him. He looked familiar, he had probably have seen him at some other political event. "Well—uh—"he started with another nervous laugh. "How about I just um—"he pointed to the doors that England just made his way out of. "I'll be right back." He finished quickly, getting off his seat and made his way through the doors at the same pace as the nation before him.

/

"Arthur!" America yelled out, causing an echo to fill the empty hallway. Even though he had rushed out of the dinner party, by the time he made it out the door, England was nowhere in sight. America was having a hard time finding the Brit. He had been in the building before, for a couple of other occasions but, never enough to learn its layout. Even if he did, he still wouldn't know which of the many rooms the distraught Englishman would go to.

America sighed as he dragged his feet. He didn't know where he was going and he didn't know how to get back. He really hoped to find England soon; otherwise he could be stuck in here forever. Just as he opened his mouth to release another call he noticed a door at the end of the hall that was slight ajar. This had been the first door he had encountered to be at least slightly open so with a light smile he went over to the room, hoping to see what he was looking for.

"Wow." America said as he stepped into the spacious room. The room was classically arranged and mostly white, from the walls to the ceiling to the furniture. The splashes of color came from the decorative curtains, carpet, and the many landscape paintings on the wall. "This is—" America said nodding as he observed his surroundings until movement caught his eye. There, at the very left corner of the room, next to a large window with open curtains stood a bushy browed Englishman. "Beautiful." He finished, making his way to the other nation.

England stood with his arms crossed and turned away from the American coming towards him. He knew he was there, he heard him shouting down the hall. He was never the quiet one, always making a ruckus. No, instead he stared out at the large window. The stars were out now. "Artie?" England heard him say as he came up beside him.

"Are you okay?" America asked, keeping his voice low. He feared that anything louder would only scare the Brit away. Luckily, England didn't hadn't made any attempt to move or to shout at him.

America inched closer, trying to see if he could read the Brit's face but the angle in which he was in made it difficult. All America was able to make out was how vibrant England appeared with the light of the almost full moon shining off him like a spotlight. America fidgeted awkwardly as he looked at England, looking out the window. He didn't know if he should say anything or wait for when the other was ready. After some consideration he figured that keeping his mouth shut like he had been instructed, to be the best option.

After a few more silent seconds, England sighed and shifted his glaze away from the window. America was initially caught by surprise with England's sudden movements. They were standing still for a considerable amount of time. His surprise turned to sympathy right after, when he noticed a string of tears falling from England's slightly reddened face. "Aww, Artie. Don't cry." He said, using the back of his index finger to gently wipe away a rolling droplet.

"I strictly remember you telling me that I could." England sniffled, quickly removing any of the remaining water.

"Oh, yeah." Alfred replied absentmindedly.

England released a short curt laugh. "You really are terrible at this."

"Yeah, I know." America chuckled nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck. "But it really is okay to be sad, Arthur." He said, England replying with a simple hum. "At least you'll still get to see him. It's not like he's—you still get to see him around." He continued, stumbling with his words, England nodding along.

"Yes." England agreed. "I do feel quite foolish however. I should know better than to get this attached." He said facing the window once more.

"It's not necessarily a bad thing." America said, placing a comforting hand upon England's shoulder, confident that he would not get shrugged off this time around.

"And it's not good either." England sighed. "Elizabeth, Victoria. It's as if I didn't learn anything from those times." England continued, leaving America with a rather confused expression.

"Um, Arthur." America called, poking England on the arm several times. "Queen Elizabeth is still here." He whispered, his attempted to let England down gently about the grave mistake he had just made about his own royalty.

"Not this one, you dolt." England couldn't help but to roll his eyes. "The one that was married to me." He smirked to himself, looking at America's expression through his peripheral vision.

"Oh, okay." America nodded. "Wait, what?" England chuckled at his reaction, again turning to face him.

"Don't worry about it, love." He sighed. Nations did often get attached and he was indeed grateful for having more time with them then some others do, but he honestly should know better. Nation's shouldn't get so invested in their relationships with their bosses, for they were merely human. It was only a matter of time until they were gone. He knew this and often followed his own rules. Yet, at times there were certain people he just could not distance himself from, despite the pain it caused. The pain he knew it caused, he had lived it and witnessed it with others such as, Prussia and Fritz.

England didn't know why he was so upset about this. It wasn't as he would never see him again. England was just used to always having him around, that was all, or he'd like to tell himself. It also pained him to know that his influential and strong-willed leader was falling ill.

"Well, let's get back to the festivities, shall we?" England proclaimed, his voice booming throughout the otherwise silent room.

"Really?" America asked. "Are you alright now?" England shrugged.

"Whether I am or not, I know he would rather have me out there than in here." He replied making his way to the door, America nodding in agreement as he followed behind. England was right. His boss would want him out there, joining in on the fun. If there wasn't an official dinner going on, America wouldn't have been surprised if his boss decided to drag England to a nearby pub for a couple of drinks. America smiled at the thought. It was easy to imagine the older politician and nation reminiscing about the good old days. Then there was the hilarious thought of England going through his drunk phases of being ecstatic to a sobbing mess next to his now former boss.

America was entranced within his own imagination when a gasp from his companion swept him back into reality. Looking up from the floor he'd been facing, America noticed England standing shockingly still as his hand held onto the doorknob. Shifting slightly to better peer through the open door, he saw what had England frightened. Standing on the other side of the beautiful white door was England's reason for his own recent dreariness.

"Sir?" England said quietly.

"Now, I'm all for you two shagging, but at my farewell dinner?" Churchill said, displaying a smirk through the cigar he held firmly in between his teeth.

"I…sir…I…that's not what—"England found himself having an incredibly difficult time creating complete sentences. All that escaped his mouth were fragmented stutters and several _'I'_s. Churchill stood watching amusingly as his nation struggled with his words to due his grand embarrassment and surprise. Finally taking pity on him, the now former prime minister stepped forward and gave England a pat on his arm.

"No need to be so flustered." He said before turning himself around as he began to make his way back towards the event. "Time to head back, they must be wondering where the man of the hour is."

England had never been a man of words when it came to certain feeling and emotions, but the retreating figure of his now former boss urged him to open his mouth. He knew full well that this could very well be one of the last chances he had to speak his mind. So, with an incredible amount of courage he stepped forward. "It's been a pleasure serving you, sir." England said, swallowing a gulp of nothing as Churchill stopped mid-step and turned to face him.

"Ah, now that's where you're wrong, young man." He claimed, returning to stand in front of the British nation. Taking his cigar out and holding it down with his left hand, he placed his right onto England's shoulder, giving it a good shake. "It is I that was given the pleasure of serving you."

"Sir?"

"You have been told that others and I have been your boss. However, in truth, everything I have ever done and what others will do will be for you." Replacing his cigar back in between his teeth, he promptly spun around and began making his way towards his dinner once more. "Better hurry." He called from further away. "The faster this ends the faster the real party can begin."

"Real party?" England asked confused.

"Yes, you're taking me out for a couple drinks." Churchill grinned. "Didn't think it would just end like this, did you?"

"Of course not, sir." England smiled back as Churchill nodded and continued his way down the hall. "I wouldn't dream of it." England finished quietly to himself, feeling a heavy arm drape around him.

* * *

><p>"So far this year's been so depressing, especially April…" America said sourly as he rested his chin on top of his palm. "You got a new boss—who isn't that fun." England smiled lightly at the American's words. "And I lost a well-respected genius." America sighed as he turned to England who looked rather bemused. "Albert Einstein." He clarified.<p>

"Ah, yes. " England nodded. "Wasn't he German?" he asked, only to get it waved away. "And performed his biggest research in several different places?"

"That's beside the point, Artie." America smiled. "He became an American citizen. So, he's mine." England replied only with a roll of the eyes. "And now it's depressing because we have to be here."

"Ah, but this is about bringing peace_, mon ami_." France announced, falling over and draping himself on top of America's back, his head resting on the his shoulder. America looked over to England, pleading for some help but only received a shrug in return. England was just thrilled that it was not him having to suffer through the situation.

"Yeah and that always goes awesomely." America said sarcastically, attempting to shake the Frenchman off, only to have him wrap his arms around his neck. "Ah, France…could you like let me go?" America asked getting more disturbed by the second.

"Not till we start." France replied, winking towards the Brit who only lifted an eyebrow before returning to the book in his hand. England knew he was just trying to provoke him and he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. Also, he really was happy to not be the one being cuddle by the perverted blond.

Just as America was preparing himself for another shake to get the Frenchman off, Russia entered the conference room. Disappointed, France sighed and let go to America's relief.

/

"We all want peace." America said looking around the room. "We don't want a World War III. So, I think we can all find some middle ground in everything, right?" He asked, getting several nods in reply. "We should be able to find a way." He said trailing off just a tad. "So, who's ready for a break?" he was excited, it was time for food and the others quickly agreed.

Standing up from his seat, England and France followed, walking towards their temporary freedom. "It's good that we're keeping the arguments to a minimum this time." America said, entirely proud and surprised at himself for keeping his cool thus far.

"Ah, Yes, but like all Americans you do not mean what you say." Russia said pointedly, his head tilting back awkwardly as he looked towards America from his still seated position.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" America asked, staring back at the Russian, looking in disgust at the large grin he held. England and France shot quick glances at each other, worried about what could possibly out fold. They had been lucky that nothing too serious ever happened during their time at the Geneva Conference last year. It was almost a miracle that neither of them had attempted to kill each other after several months of arguments and discussions and until now this meeting was looking to be calm.

"That means exactly what it says." Russia released an all but innocent snicker. "You have a clear inability to do as promised."

"No." America fired back. "You just take everything too literal." He continued, shaking his head. "Whenever I suggest something doesn't mean I'm making a promise." He said taking a few steps closer to where the Russian was seated. "Like if I suggest that I should kick your ass, it doesn't necessarily mean I'll do it." America smiled as England closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands. "I might want to be nice." He shrugged.

"Ah, I get it now." Russia's grin widened. "You Americans just love making things so difficult, da?" He asked rhetorically. "But you see, if I were to tell you that I will beat you up into a bloody pulp. Well, I can assure you that that would not be an idle threat."

"You wish you could." America snarled as he continued further until he came to stand next to the Russian.

"Oh, I think not, little America." Russia said as he stood up from his seat and looked down at the American who continued to stare at him with a blaze in his eyes. Russia couldn't help but to change his acquitted smile into a smirk, imagining tiny balls of flames shooting out from the blue orbs to only be held back by the glass in front of them. "It is you who wishes to find a way to me." Russia continued, while pointing. His finger only inches away from making contact with America's shoulder. "Just like others before."

America glared more profoundly as he looked up through the top of his frames. He held his fits tightly at his sides as they shook sporadically. It took everything he had to keep down the urge to quiver. He wasn't going to admit it. Not to anyone, especially not to the Russian in front of him, but he was scared. Terrified. Russia was right. Others have tried to invade him before and failed but, that's not what America wanted. He's scared of what Russia could do if he gained more power. He was already so big and so willing to fight if needed and with his knowledge of nuclear weapons, who knew what he was capable of? So, he couldn't let anything happen. No, he needed to be prepared for anything the Russian dished out. Couldn't make himself appear weak.

"If that's what you want to think then, go ahead." America finally said so low that the Russian had to strain to hear despite his close proximity. "If it helps you sleep at night." America continued, still not speaking loud enough to be heard by the other two nations standing off to the side. "But we both know that you wouldn't even know where to start." America finished with a sneer, Russia returning one as well.

"Alfred." America's head perked as he heard England call to him from behind. "You won't have enough time for lunch if you don't go now." He said as an excuse to get the American to leave the tension and room behind. America nodded at his words, eyes still locked on the taller nation for a several more seconds before stepping away.

As he now fought the urge to look back, America grabbed the Brit's hand in his own. He made his way to the door, knowing full well that England and even France who followed were eyeing him warily. He and England never showed any displays of affection towards each other in public, especially during official meetings. They restrained from such behaviors in order to keep their professional and personal lives as two separate entities. They also hoped it would prevent any gossip that would likely go around, even if everyone already knew of their relationship. England liked to pretend that they didn't. So, America reaching for England's hand so eagerly had surprised the Brit, but he needed it. America needed a touch of warmth after the cold freeze he had just felt.

"Your brother."

"What?" America quickly turned back around, again facing the Russian that had not moved a single step.

"Ah, you said I wouldn't know where to begin." Russia replied so calmly, knowing exactly how to taunt the abrasive American. America snarled as he inched closer to the Russian, eventually letting go of the Brit's hand. _"Don't"_ he thought he heard as England made one last attempt to hold him in place. He had reached for the sleeve of America's suit, but regrettably missed.

"You wouldn't dare." America growled from his position in front of Russia who carried a perplexed smile, one different from the norm.

"Oh?" Russia asked, tilting his head slightly to the right.

"You're bluffing." America hissed, again folding his trembling hands into fists at his sides.

"I said that I do not bluff but, I also never said that I would do it." Russia responded, his face becoming increasingly difficult to read as any sighs of a smile had disappeared. "I was simply disproving your point." America didn't respond, couldn't. He was having a hard time controlling himself and that frightened him more then anything else, and Russia knew this.

America stood silently, unable to remove his glaze from the violet orbs that pierced back. America was aware of Russia's knowledge. He knew Russia could clearly see the panic and desperation in his eyes. Could tell the he was trying to get to him, trying to get him worked up. If only he could control his outbursts. He tried, it didn't seem apparent to others but he tried. That's why he stood. He was waiting for the urge to lunge out subsided.

Moments passed until America was finally able to control his breathing. It had slowed down to a smooth rhythm, rather than jagged exhales that flared his nostrils and threatened to fog his frames. Also finally being able to break contact with the tall Russian, he turned to the side to face England. He stood next to the Frenchman, by the door, pleading America to join them with only a look.

Deciding that the face-off was well over, America wordlessly began to move away. England smiled ever so lightly as he saw America shift towards him. He was relieved that the confrontation didn't escalate and now they would be able to enjoy their small break. His joy however, was short lived as he looked passed the American and to the Russian near by. His previously blank face was now gleaming with an expression he was not used to seeing. America scrunched his forehead together in confusion as he noticed England's concerned stare.

"Yes, he is rather close to the both of us, da?" Russia asked in his overly sweet voice. The blondes at the door widened their eyes, as America returned to his fired state. He had stopped mid-step and though he could not see him, he could feel the grin prodding him in the back. "Yes, that would be the best way to get to you." Russia said as America deepened his breaths and counted to ten.

"And I'll be able to catch your brother by surprise as well." Russia continued, his voice rising in pitch. America ceased his deep breaths by holding it in instead. England took a step closer to the pair to only be stopped by a grab at the wrist. "It would be quite fun, da?" Russia asked, expecting a reply from the American. Yet, seeing America still turned away from him, not making any attempt to argue back made him smile even grander. In fact, he had found it quite intriguing. He had never succeeded in shutting the other's mouth before. Happy with the turn out; Russia began to chuckle, the same usual soft chuckle that rang the sounds of both innocence and terror.

Russia, remaining distracted by his own giggles was caught completely by surprise when a heavy object made impact with his face. Wasting absolutely no time, he quickly stood up straight and made eye contact with the American who stared up at him with such disdain. Then with a blink of the eye and the curl of the lip Russia leaped over and began his own attack. As the two super powers threw blows at each other, the chairs around them dropped as the large table rattled as they slammed into it.

"Stop!" England exclaimed breaking away from the hand around his wrist and started to run towards the two fighting nations. He was not able to make it half way when arms grabbed him tightly. "_Non, mon cher_." France yelled at him, attempting to pull him back.

England stopped his struggle, cringing at the sight of America dodging a punch to only throw one in return. He observed the damage they had done in a short amount of time, besides the fallen chairs there was a litter of documents scattering the floor. He peered around, trying to avoid looking at the fight itself. He didn't want to be a witness, if he didn't see it wasn't happening. Yet, he was forced to look up when he heard a grunt leave the American's mouth.

He had dodged around to miss a hit but was still struck harshly on the shoulder. England winced and stared in horror when America, too distracted by his own pain was too slow. He couldn't manage to get out of the way of an impending blow. Russia's large hand made contact with America's left cheek, sending his glasses off his face and landing with a cling. America was able to catch himself with the help of the vibrating table. His face stinging as a trickle of blood dripped down, America leaped forward once more despite his slightly blurred vision.

England, deciding that he could no longer just stand around restarted his fight for freedom against the Frenchman. "Let me go!" He yelled as he thrashed his arms and dug his heels onto the ground, trying to push himself away. "Francis!" After more pulls, he achieved a few steps forward causing France's grip to loosen. This gave him enough space to turn himself around half way, giving the Frenchman a good shove. "We have to stop them." He shouted, rushing towards the fighting powerhouses.

"Alfred!" England shouted, knowing it would do little good. America couldn't hear a thing; he was far too gone within the moment. Unable to think of anything else that would stop the fighting nation, England grabbed hold and wrapped himself around one of America's arms while he was swinging it forward. "That's enough." He yelled, letting go with one arm, he lifted it up in front of the Russian singling to stop. "Russia!" He called out, the soviet nation fortunately being able to stop himself in mid-strike.

"Arthur, what the hell are you doing?" America yelled, grabbing a hold of England's waist with his free hand and tried to pry him off. "Move." He said, shifting his grasp onto the arms around his own, finding a way to uncurl the Brit's hold. Instead of letting go, England clashed a chunk of America's disheveled coat with the hand that was previously in the air.

"No, let's go, Alfred." England tugged.

"Get out of the way, Arthur." America shook his head and turned back to the Russian, who now stood up straight. "You'll get hurt." He snarled at Russia who smiled in return.

"Just come with me." England said as he continued to yank America's arm and coat. Finally breaking complete contact with the communist, America turned to look at the nation attached to him. "Please." England asked gaining no reaction. This was of course a good sign. America had not given him a protest, did not argue, did not fight against him. Thus, with one last jerk the American stepped away from the Russian. "Come on." England said letting go of the coat yet still keeping a good grip on America's arm.

Never letting go, England dragged the taller nation towards his abandoned glasses on the floor and picked them up. They were luckily unharmed with the exception of a slightly crooked frame and smudgy lenses, both things being easily repairable. "Come on." England repeated when America's feet seemed planted on the ground, refusing to lose sight of the communist nation.

"Yes, America, you should go."Russia said with a grin and then a laugh as America growled and sprung forward causing the Brit to quickly increase his hold.

"Ivan!" England yelled, Russia ceasing his laughter but his smile remained. England dug in his heals and pulled, fighting with all his might to get America to the doors as he lashed around to be released. "Alfred, let it go." He told the American as the reached the exit.

"If you put one finger on him I swear-!" America yelled at the smirking Russian who stayed at the same position.

"Ah ah." Russia waved a finger. "Do not say what you do not mean to do." He said tauntingly. England anticipating another jerk quickly opened the door and tossed the American out of the room. Breathing deeply after all the effort, England walked over to pick up his briefcase before taking a look at the still smiling Russian. "He started it." He shrugged. Shaking his head, England sighed and made his way out as well.

"Well…"France nodded awkwardly. "I suppose now it is break time?"

/

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?" England yelled as he pushed the American through the door of the restroom. They had walked in silence on their trail to the room until then. It had been so completely still that America was unprepared for the shove and slammed into the counter. "This is supposed to be a damned peace summit." England continued, placing his briefcase next to the sink and began to unzip it. "Must you be so easily provoked? You knew full well that he was simply trying to get you to react."

The Brit sighed to himself, feeling that he was talking to himself as he pulled out a small first aid kit that he always carried with him. Other nations, mainly America and France would mock him for having it, but you never knew when it would come in handy. Surely, America would be relieved that he had it at this moment. "There. Not come here." England said looking up to notice that America was no longer standing next to him. "What on Earth are you doing now?" He asked.

America stood at the opposite side of the rather large restroom, standing on a trash can that creaked with the weight, looking out the window. "They can be anywhere." America replied, jumping down from the poor bin that looked ready to collapse. "Have to look everywhere." He said in a low voice, bending down as far as he could and peered into every stall. Still not satisfied that the restroom was empty with the exception of the two nations, he stood in the middle of the room and gave it yet another thorough examination. He could never be too sure. "Russia is known for spies, you know?"

"Yes." England responded, rolling his eyes, a clear indication that he would soon lose his temper. "And so am I." He said grabbing the American's wrist and pulled him back to the counter.

"You're an idiot." England whispered as he cleaned a wound just below America's left eye. The taller nation winced at the sting he felt when the soft wet cloth touched his face. It was going to bruise. There was no doubt about it; it was already turning into a different shade. If they could only find a good amount of ice to at least prevent any swelling. "How could you even think about starting a fight?" England asked picking out a bandage from a small box and gently placed it own the America's face, smoothing it out with the tips of his fingers.

"I wasn't." America said scratching his head. "I don't think sometimes."

"Obviously." England scoffed.

"Yeah." America didn't deny. "I lose myself sometimes. It's like—I can feel that I'm starting to feel—different…" England scrunched his forehead worriedly at America's choice of words. "I can feel like this heightened sense of something, something almost—obsessive…" at this point the American seemed to be speaking to himself, as if he had forgotten that he was not alone. He blinked several times before looking down to face the Englishman whose large brows nearly curved into each other. America smiled. "And then Russia threatening to use Mattie to get to me just pissed me off." America narrowed his own eyebrows at the thought. "Leave my brother out if it." America placed a few fingers on the bandage on his upper cheek. "And you."

"Me?" England asked, removing America's hand away from his face. "He didn't say anything about me."

"No, but he already got his band of groupies together." America scoffed. "Friendship pact my ass." He said, turning around to face the mirror. "And Russia, all of them, are obviously much closer to you than me." He continued while examining himself. He retouched his already forming bruise and sighed.

"Hmm…"England hummed, grabbing the supplies, beginning to neatly replace the items back into the First Aid kit. "It's not like you don't have your own bandwagon."

"Do I really?" America asked almost frantically, turning to face the Brit. "I do, right?" He asked again, practically shoving his glasses back on. Any other time the sight would appear silly as the frames were still in need of some adjusting as one side poked up higher than the other. Yet, it was the clear worry that swept away any of the humor.

"You know you do." England said, momentarily stopping from repacking his briefcase to look at the panicked American.

"Okay, okay." America nodded his head rapidly several times, his newly placed glasses sliding down his nose. "That's good, yeah." He rubbed the back of his head with a short quirky laugh. "Yeah." Feeling a pair of eyes on him, America turned to England and gave a big smile, hesitantly he smiled back.

"Are you ready?" England asked after he finished neatly packing all of his supplies. "Alfred?" he called out when the American failed to respond. America had remained standing next to him, his hands holding onto the counter top yet, he faced away towards the opposite side of the room. Just as England stretched his arm out to grab the American's attention, he pushed himself off the counter and slowly walked in the direction of the window. "Alfred!" England shouted out again, stopping the American in his tracks.

"Yeah?" America said, turning back around and walked towards the restroom door. "Are you ready to eat? I'm starving." He asked never giving England a chance to respond to his first question as his hand grasped the metal handle.

"Yes, I suppose I am rather hungry." England nodded, following the American to the exit.

"Hey, England?" America said, regaining the Brit's attention, who only hummed in reply. "Fairies?" America's finished with a laugh, pointing to the bandage that currently resided on his cheek.

England coughed into a fist as his own cheeks turned a different shade for a completely different reason. "They were the only plasters I could find." He said, hopefully it was enough to make America stop that insane smile. It wasn't. Instead America smile only widened as he let out a not too convincing. _'Sure…"_

* * *

><p>"Whoo! Yes!" America shouted with his hands up, reaching for the sky. "This is going to be so much fun!" He twirled around in circles, stopping only when he started to feel dizzy and then began to wave at those passing by. They didn't seem to mind at all. Not one of them, and there were many. Large groups of families and friends ranging in age were too smiling back with great grins and waving.<p>

"Come on, guys! Lighten up!" America said, skipping over to the fuzzy browed Brit and a young man that looked an awfully like himself. "You're in the happiest place on Earth!" He yelled, his hands stretching out on both sides as if presenting the whole theme park.

"Let's go get in line for something." And with that, the overly happy American sped off to find adventure.

"He's going to get himself lost." England smiled lightly, despite shaking his head. America could be an immature, spontaneous twit, but there was something about his glowing innocence that always made him smile.

"He'll be fine," Chuckled the soft spoken Canadian. "He's already running back." He pointed at the running nation that was zigzagging through the crowd, his cowlick hopping up and down along with him.

"Guys!" America jumped in front of the pair of blondes. "Why are you still standing around for?" He whined, clearly using all the will power he had in him to not explode with excitement.

"Alright, alright, let's go, but must you yell everything?" England sighed, finally taking a step forward.

"He's not yelling. This is his "I'm so excited" voice." Canada said, receiving a hardy pat on the back by from his brother.

"Yeah!" See, Matt's got it down!"America beamed, grabbing a hold of each of their hands. "Come on, I have something you'll like, Art." England rolled his eyes at the nicknames he used. Was he so excited and in such a hurry that he could not waste time saying their names properly? He even managed to shrink their names more then usual. He did comply however, letting him be led though out the park. It was spectacular with all the games, rides, and people in costumes. He might deny it, but he knew he would have—fun. It was all so magical and everyone knew how much he appreciated that.

/

"Merlin's Magic Shop?"

"Yup!" America beamed as they made their way through the front door. "Don't you like it?" He nudged England with his elbow before turning to Canada and lifted his brows up in unison. Canada, of course had to shook his head at his antics.

"Well, none of this is real magic." England nicely pointed out to America's dismay. "But, it is lovely." He quickly continued after seeing America's sadden expression and sigh. "Very charming." America's smile returned, as he picked up a nearby wizard's hat, placing it on the Brit's head.

"Alfred…" England said with a false irritation in his voice. Canada couldn't help but smile. Sure, they weren't talking to him very much but, that was to be expected. Just being invited so happily by his brother was enough to make him happy in return, and seeing the other two nations together was always both disgusting and mildly—adorable.

"I wanted to be here for the preview day or opening day but we just _had_ to be at the summit…."America grumbled. "Well, actually—" he continued, completely changing his voice into a bright tone before changing it again, into a whisper. "I heard that that was a good thing. Don't tell anyone." He said, giving each a pat on the back before running off to investigate the rest of the shop.

"Um, Arthur…" Canada quietly called for England's attention after looking at the items in silence.

"Yes?" He replied, putting a woodened toy wand back onto its respected shelf. They did not look at all like the real thing. Who came up with these designs?

"Ah, um, what…what exactly happened at the summit?" The shy Canadian asked, picking up a deck of cards, anything to avoid direct eye contact. "What happened to his eye?" Canada asked. No one had previously mention anything about the dark purple marking or the small thin cut on America's lower lip yet, Canada could not have missed it. It was clear that his brother was hoping for it to not be mentioned, pretending that it didn't exist. So, Canada was forced to wait for the opportune time to ask the Brit alone.

"His eye?" England asked rhetorically, turning to take a quick peek at America. He was on the opposite side of the store, chatting animatedly with a little girl he had just made friends with. They both wore hats, no different from the one he had placed on England's head. They were much too far apart for England to be able to make out what America was saying, but could clearly see the sparkle in the little girl's vibrant browns as she giggled at his words. "Your brother is quite protective of you, you know?" England said, turning back.

"He is?" Canada asked, forgetting the cards for a brief moment, England nodded in response.

"He got in a fight for you." He smiled softly.

"Wha—what…really?" Canada asked in disbelief. He was pretty sure the summit was supposed to be about bringing peace. "With Russia?" he asked a little louder than he expected as he received an odd stare from the young man standing besides him. Laughing awkwardly, Canada moved to stand on the opposite side of the Brit as if that would make everything better.

"Yes." England simply answered, trying to hold in his own chuckle until he cleared his throat. "Trying to defend your honor." He smiled at Canada's blushing face. "I am worried about him, however." He continued, completely changing the tone while staring at the pair of magical rings in his hands.

"So, you've noticed it too, eh?" England swiftly turned away from his hands and rings he found so interesting just seconds ago. "I don't know if he's getting worse or anything. It's just becoming easier to notice." Canada continued, taking his turn to peer over at the American who now found him surrounded by several more children. "He actually manages to get me scared sometimes too." He sighed as an uncomfortable silence crept up upon the two blondes. England had returned his attention to the rings in his hands while Canada twirled the stray hair that fell in front of his face.

"Are you guys ready to go check everything else out?" America shouted with excitement, causing the others to slightly jolt at being caught by complete surprise. "There's so much more to see!"

/

"Tomorrowland!"

America had found it to be his personal responsibility to showcase the entire theme park to his invitees, choosing dragging them everywhere as the method of choice. Complaining and some resisting did always eventually ensue but, it got the job done. It couldn't be too bad as everyone did seem to be enjoying themselves.

"This is my favorite!" America exclaimed, his face searching for the right way to explain his fondness for the particular land. "One day all of this won't be for tomorrow but for today." His eyes danced with a shinning glee. "Just wait and see." England and Canada sighed contently at America's enthusiasm. He surely was an ambitious young man with big dreams and big plans to reach them. "Just wait…I'll beat you there." America laughed, England and Canada's expression quickly turning into one of worry.

"Beat who, where, Alfred?" The concerned Brit asked.

"The damn Commie." He replied. "He thinks he can get there before me, ha!" He said, his volume increase to a much greater level than before. "If I had the right equipment I bet I could get _that _ready to fly." He said pointing to one of the rocket shaped carts used for an attraction ride. England and Canada glanced at one another, communicating silently, asking for help to determine whether America was being serious or simply over-exaggerating his abilities.

"We have some of the best engineers here, you know?" America bragged, his lips displaying a cocky smirk as he thought up all the different scenarios, all ending with his victory. However, it was incredibly short lived as his eyes widened and he ran his fingers harshly through his hair. "Wait…" he whispered to himself as he began to erratically turn his head in all directions. "What if…" He took small steps forward, carefully eyeing those passing by, so closely into their personal space that many were beginning to get angry.

"What are you doing?" England asked, pulling America back towards Canada and himself. "You're disturbing people."

"We have a lot of good engineers here." America repeated himself, never stopping his eyes from roaming through his surroundings.

"Yes, you've mentioned, not two minutes ago. What is your point?" England asked, slowly becoming frustrated.

"What if they're here?" America asked in a sense of panic. "There are so many people here. It can be anyone." He made a quick attempt to leave the sides of his companions once more to only have his other arm pulled back as well.

"Al, I don't think Russia would be interested in the engineering that goes on in an amusement park." Canada said to him calmly, hoping his different approach would help to soothe the suspicious American. "And it's not like he's going to kidnap an engineer and then use their skills for things. He has a lot of his own." Canada smiled, until he noticed England, standing behind America, shaking his head rapidly, and clearly disapproving of his words. As a frown developed on his face, he noticed his brother starting at him—petrified.

"Oh, god, you're right." America whispered as England groaned and Canada looked regretful. "He could be coming up with things right now, right this second." He removed his arms from their holds and held his head. "We should go, I should go, yeah, I should go, I'm going to go." He slowly began walking, heading towards the park's entrance. "I have to go get more prepared." He spoke to himself, despite being followed by the other blondes.

"Al, where are you going?" Canada asked, running up in front of the American, stopping him in his tracks, America looking not too thrilled.

"Mattie, get out of my way." America said unexpectedly calm as he stepped around his brother to only be stopped by a certain European Nation. "I have to get home." America said, again trying to get away, but England had no intent of letting that happen. Every step America took, he was there to block his way.

"Alfred." England held up both of his hand, attempting to convince America to stop trying to get away. "Just—calm down." Breathing loudly, the American did slow to a stop, yet did not cease his eyes from roaming. "Now, what are you doing?" England asked gently.

"Wasting time." He answered, sending the Brit his full attention. "I should be out getting ready for whatever happens. You know you never know what can happen." England frowned.

"You're right, I do." England nodded, placing a hand on his upper arm. "But panicking isn't going to get you anywhere." Without a word, America began to slowly nod in agreement, much to England and Canada's relief.

"Yeah." America said, his face once again glowing. "I can't panic. If I do then I won't be able to do anything right." He continued to nod along with everything he said. "Okay." He took a hold of England's hand and reached for Canada's, who stood silently to his right. "Fantasyland today." He shouted happily, a toothy grin covering his face. "Find ways to stay ahead of the Reds in every way possible tomorrow." He laughed almost hysterically, dragging his companions through the magical park, a light frown resting on England's and Canada's brow.

* * *

><p>"It's starting"<p>

England stood near the kitchen door, taking a look at America on the couch. His eyes shined and his lips smiled in a purely authentic smile. "What is?" England asked as America stood up and made his way towards the Brit.

"Civil rights." America said, his smile gradually disappearing as his mouth formed into a thin line. "A movement for them anyway, but it's a big step. First the desegregating schools, then buses and trains, and now this." America continued speaking to England though many times it appeared as if he had forgotten he was even in the room. "It's going to be a struggle, of course." He said pacing throughout his living room. "Won't know how long it'll take. It could be years." He stopped in the middle of the room. "But it'll be worth it in the end." He smiled.

"It most certainly will." England replied.

"A lady. She refused to move from her seat on the bus." America returned to the sofa, England joining him. "It's such a small gesture." America said softly, his eyes taking in the sight of his hand being held by the other nation. "But it means so much."

"And one day it'll mean so much more."

"Yeah." America agreed hopingly at England's words. "And my citizen that's in charge of a new bus boycott. I've met him before." He nodded. "When he was much younger and I think…No, I know that I can expect a lot of good things from him."

"Well, then—it is all in good hands." England said smiling gently while America gifted him with one in return.

* * *

><p>AN:

1. Winston Churchill resigned from office on April 5, 1955 due to deteriorating health. A farewell dinner party was held for him at 10 Downing Street, the headquarters of Her Majesty's Government and official residence for the Prime Minister.

a. 10 Downing Street has many different rooms. England was in the White Drawing Room. A room decorated with works done by important English landscapes of the 19 century. That's really, all I know so I hope there's a big window in there, haha.

2. Albert Einstein, a German-born theoretical physicist who developed the theory of general relativity and is considered the father of modern physicist died April 15, 1955 of internal bleeding caused by the rupture of an abdominal aortic aneurysm. He had refused surgery saying: "I want to go when I want. It is tasteless to prolong life artificially. I have done my share, it is time to go. I will do it elegantly." He was 76.

a. England and America's conversation about him being German was inspired by something a British Chemistry professor I had once. He said if America could claim Einstein then they could claim someone else. I forgot who.

3. The Geneva Summit of 1955 took place on July 18, 1955 in Geneva, Switzerland. The meeting was between the presidents, prime ministers, and foreign ministers of the United States of America, United Kingdom, France, and the Soviet Union. The summit was to begin discussing peace and reduce international tension. Some of the discussions were about arms negotiations, trade barriers, diplomacy, and nuclear war, all to reach the goal of increased global security.

a. American political advisers advised to not make any specific promises to the Soviet Union for in the past they had misinterpreted American suggestions as promises later on.

b. "Oh, I think not, Little America." That reminds me of the movie Cats and Dogs…there was a scene with a Russian blue cat and he said something similar to a dog. I'm quite embarrassed…wasn't the best movie but it's cute, though it offends my cat.

4. The Warsaw Treaty Organization of Friendship, Cooperation, and Mutual Assistance, better known as just the Warsaw Pact was a mutual defense treaty between eight communist states, established by the Soviet Union. The pact was a military response to the integration of West Germany into NATO.

5. Disneyland in Anaheim, California opened its doors on July 18, 1955.

a. A special preview event was held on July 17, 1955 for only invited guests and the media, which turned out to be a disaster. The park was over crowded with people with counterfeit tickets, it was unusually hot, a plumber strike felt the park with no working fountains, newly poured asphalt caused heels to sink it, vendors rant out of food, and gas leak caused several lands to close for the afternoon.

6. Canada, though being on friendly terms with other China and Cuba was clearly on the United States' side during the Cold War. The US hoped that Canada would go further into anti-communism but Canada saw this as American hysteria though they were not completely immune to the hysteria themselves.

7. 1955 marked the start of the Space Race, a competition between the United States and the Soviet Union domination in space exploration. They both in 1955 build ballistic missiles that could be used to launch objects into space and both nations announced that they would launch a satellite by 1957or 1958

8. 1955 also marked the start of the Civil Rights Movement in the US. On December 1, 1955, Rosa Parks refused the order to give up her seat to make room for a white passenger. Though others had made similar motions, her refusal sparked a bus boycott. The Montgomery Bus Boycott was lead by the Montgomery Improvement Association, which was lead by Martin Luther King, Jr., a clergyman, activist, and civil rights leader. He was known for his nonviolent methods he followed from the teachings of Mahatma Ghandi.

a. Segregation on buses and trains is outlawed on November 5


	4. 1956

A/N:...Let's not talk about it…..

* * *

><p>"You can't be serious."<p>

"You think I'm not serious?" America asked, quickly whipping his sights onto the blonde standing watch over him. "Of course, I'm serious." He rolled his neck several times to soothe the sharp tinge of pain shooting up its side from moving too fast. "This is a very serious thing."

"Well, I…" he said, scratching the outside of his right cheek with two fingers."I guess it is, but-"

"You guess?" America gasped in disbelief.

"I—I just think you're blowing this out of proportion." He stuttered out, already anticipating a large response.

"And I think you just have a warped vision because of your little buddy, Cuba." He said in a half-like yell as he pointed at the accused before continuing the task at hand. The silence between the two nations did not last for very long as America never lost his look of uncertainty and again stopped what he was doing. "Which I still don't understand." America said, taking another good look at his companion, who couldn't help but to sigh as he watched the American wipe away at the sweat covering his face with his forearm.

"There's nothing to understand, Al."

"Whatever, Mattie." America clicked his tongue and quickly continued to work, clearly not satisfied with his brother's reply. "I'll still let you come in though." He smiled largely, Canada frowning in return. "Yup, but that's it." America nodded. "Just you, me, and Arthur." He nodded again, more exaggerated as he rubbed his chin, admiring what he had done thus far. "It'll look so good when it's done. So, good." He said to himself, leaving Canada feeling confused about what to do.

"But really, are—" Canada took a short pause, America's attention still fully on himself and all his glory. "Are you serious?"

"Matt!" America yelled loudly as his concentration switched, the shrillness of his voice causing the maple lover to jump up a bit from the sudden surprise. Apparently he had been listening more closely than the Canadian had first thought.

"What?" Canada shouted back, not nearly at the same volume level. For an unknown reason his shouts always seemed to come out more like incredibly loud whispers.

"Why the hell can't you believe I'm being serious?" America asked, still speaking with a boisterous tone.

Several thoughts ran through the Canadian's head; his brother's lack of maturity, his tendency to overreact, and his usual nonsensical ideas he claimed to be genius. He chose to not voice any. Instead, he shook his head frantically. Not saying a word, a hand on covering his mouth, and stood up straight from his former seated position. "Because, Al!" he said stretching his arms out as far as they could go. "You're digging a hole in your backyard!" Not knowing what else to say, Canada ran his fingers through his wavy blonde hair, looking down at his fellow North American.

He was standing there, staring back. Staring, from in his place within the large hole he had been digging, a shovel in hand. He had gotten rather far with it in such a short matter of time. It was long enough to probably fit himself and a shorter person lying down. It was rather deep as well, anything below his thighs being well hidden from anyone standing outside the pit. It was yet to become very wide, but that was surely to come. "I'm not just digging a hole, Mattie." America puffed, looking and sounding deeply offended. "Mattie!" He called out noisily when the wavy haired blonde wouldn't meet his eyes, instead thinking that counting every strand of grass to be a better way to spend his time.

"What?" He finally replied, removing several strands of his hair out of his face, lifting his head up slightly, just enough to once again make contact.

"I'm not just digging a hole." America repeated, feeling a great need to fully confirm his intentions. He was unsure whether his need was directed to everyone and anyone, to the nation near him, or himself. He decided to not question it further, instead he watched on as he waited for the other nation to respond. He stood silent despite his fatigue, only moving in an attempt to remove the plastered dirt covering his face, the wiping only adding more. He fidgeted, attempting to brush his shirt clean, kicking at the dirt walls surrounding him, and moving the shovel slowly from side to side, causing it to dig into the earth below.

As his brother still refused to reply, deciding to return to the fruitless task of counting grass, America lost his small amount of patience. Using just enough strength, America lifted the shovel and slammed it into the ground, letting it stand on its own. Knowing that his silent sibling would not be saying a word he preceded into his own speech. "It's going to be a shelter." He said as he began to pace within the confines of the hole.

"Can you imagine it?" he asked coming up slightly to the edge, taking a quick look at his brother before continuing to walk up and down his hand dug corridor. "It's going to be huge." He said taking a spin with stretched arms. "And it's going to have everything we need. We have to stock a lot. Never know how long we might have to say in there." He finished with a smile.

"Do you ever listen to yourself?"

"Do you?" America snapped, glaring deeply, holding his brother's glaze. The glare never faulted even after realizing that he wasn't sure what he was asking.

"I…" Canada's eyes were still widened from the shock of the sudden outburst. He had not expected to receive a response with such hostility, and he was unsure of how to answer the question. He was not even certain whether it was a question to answer. "I Just…" he hesitated with his words, feeling as if he was walking on egg shells, any wrong word having the potential to make America crack. "It's….it's going to be great." He finally said with a timid smile.

"I know, isn't it?" America returned a showcase of pearly whites.

"Yeah," Canada nodded. "But you know, Al. Just—" He paused. "Just calm down a bit, eh?"

"Yeah. Okay, Mattie." America brushed off, returning to shoveling his future homemade bomb shelter.

Canada shook his head as he moved towards the large American home. As he stepped inside he released a breath of air. America was becoming harder and harder to handle, his mood swings changing much more frequently. Canada had taken it upon himself to check in on him from time to time, never knowing what to expect. There were times where he could clearly hear the panic in his brother's voice and other times, he wouldn't pick up the phone at all. When that happened, Canada would come down to pay him a visit and what he saw when he arrived always changed. Some days America would be fine, just his normal enthusiastic self, going on about whatever he was into at the moment. Recently, it was a lot about this new performer that was getting a lot of attention for this style of music and dance moves. Presley it was, Elvis Presley.

Yet, other times Canada would find him sitting in the dark, a blanket covering every window in the house. It made it harder for people to spy on him, he would say. The blankets covering up every little slit the blinds would leave, he argued. The lights off making it appear as if no one was home, he proposed. Then, there were times like this, where he walked in to witness his brother and fellow nation digging a hole in his backyard.

Canada sighed again as he patted the head of the small white bear, it immediately asking a quiet _"Who?"_ as he made his way towards the kitchen. He was only half way to the room before a loud and rapid knock came from the front door. Making a quick glance towards the back, Canada shrugged and changed his direction to the door. Another piercing bang came once he placed his hand on the knob and promptly opened it.

"It's about bloody time." England said with his arm still in midair, apparently preparing for another knock. "I've been out here for at least five minutes." He continued, glancing around the patio, his way of emphasizing just where he had to wait. Canada simply stood and took in all of the Brit's complaints. "What took you so long, A-" England stopped abruptly as he took a good look at the Canadian's face for the first time since the door had opened.

"Matt," Clarified the younger nation after noticing the slight crease in the Brit's brow. He was well aware of what that meant by now.

"Ah, yes, of course." England flustered a bit, his composure returning right after. "How have you been, Matthew, my boy." He asked entering the house after the taller nation kindly invited with a gesture of the arm.

"Okay, I suppose." Canada shrugged, receiving a hum and nod as a reply of understanding. "Well, now that you're here. I guess I'll get going." He said, making his way over to the polar bear that now sat near the small dining table, eating a fish. He wasn't sure were exactly he had gotten that fish but Canada thought it was probably better to not ask such questions.

"You don't have to do that." England replied, following close behind. "You should stay. I can make us all a family dinner." He smiled with a hand on holding his chin, thinking about all the possible recipes. Luckily, Canada had his back towards the Brit, making impossible for him to see the worried face and the tongue sticking out at the thought of the potential food.

"Oh, I would really like that." The taller nation faked a smile as he turned around after lifting the small polar bear into his arms. "But I really should go." He nodded. "I've been ready to go for some time now. Just didn't want to leave him alone." They all frowned, including the furry animal, for completely different reasons.

"How is he exactly?" England asked, worry clearly demonstrated through the nearly nonexistent quiver in his voice. It was almost as if the two nations were taking turns watching over the American. It was impossible for England to stay here full time. He always had to go home, his time spent on this continent being considerably shorter than others in the past. His new boss wasn't as lenient and unfortunately, there was not much he could do with an ocean in between.

"I…um…" Canada shifted the weight of the bundle in his arms, allowing him to scratch his head and slide his glasses up the bridge of this nose. "I don't know." He finally said, giving the elder nation a perplexed expression. "I really don't." he sighed for the umpteenth time since he had arrived.

"I see." England nodded, looking down at the brown shoes covering his feet. The shoes he was gifted just a few years ago.

"Um, Arthur?" Canada said, looking down and patting the animal in his hands, right before covering up its mouth when it appeared ready to say a word.

"Yes?"

"Be careful, okay?" England nodded, unsure of what to say. The younger man just seemed so serious, so sincere. He was always much more quiet and reserved than his brother, but there was something that eluded from his tone of voice that led England to agree without a second thought.

Nodding in return, Canada hoisted up the bear in his harms for a better grip. "Time to go home, Kumajimi." He said, receiving a tilted head and a confused _"who?" _

"Canada" he sighed, and with that he was out the door.

England stood in the center of the Kitchen, taking care of an itch on one of his caterpillar brows, pondering what his next move should be. He could go off to find the American, for he was obviously home, just not in sight. He also could bring in the suitcase he had forgotten outside after the wait and being surprised by someone he was not expecting. They both sounded liked very reasonable and productive choices. However, England believed that after a trip across the ocean, a cup of tea was definitely deserved. So, stepping over, he opened the door to the kitchen pantry. He knew he would find tea in there eventually.

England was one to always be prepared. You had to expect the unexpected and not assume that you'll find what you need. That being said, packing his own tea from home was something England had always done. There was nothing like genuine English tea to make you feel right at home after a stressful and insane meeting in a foreign country. Yes, tea was an essential component to all his travels. But, like with many things there had been changes over time. He still cold heartedly believed in carrying his own where ever he went. That was something that would never change, with one exception, when he visited America.

After their not-spoken yet official relationship commenced, England quickly noticed that America had began to store tea in his house. It was a surprising occurrence. It was like any other morning during one of his visits when he first discovered it. It was actually rather rare for England to be visiting back then as America did most of the traveling right after the war. England was not in much of a condition to travel. So, with the excitement of being able to cook with more than just the bare minimum of food, he decided to make breakfast. He headed straight for the pantry that morning, ready to take out all the necessary ingredients when he saw something new. There, sitting on a shelf was a box of yet to be opened tea and a container of English biscuits. England couldn't help buy to smile, knowing he had no choice but to give it a try. America never said a word about it, perhaps was too embarrassed, but there was always some there ever since. So, even if it wasn't exactly the right type, knowing that America trying to make him feel at home made the tea that much sweeter.

"Ah, there you are." England said to himself as he pulled out a box of Earl Grey. He tilted his head and gave a soft hum. Not exactly the brand he preferred but shouldn't be bad. Holding it firmly in one hand, he used the other to dig through the remaining contents within the pantry. As he moved the items, he lost himself in his own world, so distracted in the search for a light snack that he did not notice the nearing figure.

He smiled slightly as he grasped a box of biscuits that would go nicely with his tea. Slipping it neatly under his left arm, he used his now free hand to shut the pantry door. "Oh bloody hell!" He exclaimed with a hand on his chest and the tea and biscuits on the floor. "What are you doing?" he asked America who stood beside him, previously hidden by the pantry door and England's own distraction. "Why didn't you grab my attention?" England asked, but America did not make a move or say a word, he simply stood staring deeply into the shorter man's eyes. England frowned. "Alfr-"

"Who are you?" America interrupted, his expression never changing.

England, on the other hand, displayed a rainbow of emotions. "Who would I be?" He said with a sharp hint of irritation. His annoyance only rising when America still refused to react.

"I don't know." America shrugged. "I guess you could be anyone."

"Alfred, I'm not going to pla—' England stopped himself abruptly for when he began to bend down to grab the fallen containers, he noticed for the first time what America held in his hand. England stood up straight once more, forgetting whatever was scattered on the floor. "…y this game." He said finishing his statement, his eyes staying locked on to the hand gun being pointed at him. "Alfred?" his eyes shifted up, hoping to see any sort of emotion written on the American's face.

"Who are you?" America repeated while taking a step forward, England taking his own step back, shoving the box of tea in the process.

"I'm Arthur, obviously." England replied through gritted teeth, a means to control his rising frustration and temper. He did have a small hint of relief when America finally displayed a change to his face. Staring back at him was now a smirking American.

"Oh, really?" America asked, not sounding fully convinced. "But you can be anyone just pretending to be him. How am I supposed to know for sure?" He squinted, taking another step. England decided to remain in place.

"Alfred, you're being ridiculous." England crossed his arms, still staring up at the taller nation, attempting to ignore the weapon pointed at him. He wouldn't die from a gunshot. It took much more than that to kill a nation. As long as their citizens existed so did they. Yet, that did not cover up the fact that they could indeed get hurt and the pain was just as painful.

"Am I really?" America asked with a curt laugh. "Well, then how did you get in here?" England frowned, knowing if he could, he would take another step forward.

"Matthew." England replied, shortly.

A gleam of light flashed through America's eyes as he scrunched his brows together. "Matthew?" He asked himself despite never breaking his focus from the Brit's face. "Matthew…" he asked again, licking his lips in concentration.

"Yes, Canada, your brother." England said, helping America remember the often forgotten nation. The hint ended up being of great help as a new brightness seemed to reflect from the American.

"Oh, yeah." America smiled a genuine, non-condescending smile. "Mattie was here." England released a breath he forgot he was holding. "Where is he?" He turned his head, trying to pinpoint the Canadian.

"He left." England replied, still looking on with concern. America appeared to be back to his hyperactive self. The small evidence that proved who England was being enough to satisfy him. England was glad, but his unease could not be subsided as the firearm still stayed tightly within the American's grasp. He wondered if the taller nation had simply forgotten that he was holding a weapon towards another person.

"Oh, okay." America nodded.

"So, you're just carrying a gun with you everywhere now?" England asked, America looking down at his hand holding the dark pistol. He stared at it for several seconds as if seeing it for the first time, despite it sitting firmly in his grip, his finger dangerously close to the trigger.

America shrugged. "I have the right."

"Hm. Yes, your blasted amendment." England said with a roll of the eyes as he crossed the arms. "But I don't appreciate you pointing it in my face." He growled, pushed the American's hand down, finally stopping the gun from being directed at him.

"It wasn't in your face." America argued back scowling, matching the look of the man in front of him.

"Will it be next time?" England quickly responded with a fire in his eyes. He feared America would end up hurting someone. If he did end up shooting a nation whether accidently or purposely at least they would eventually be just fine, but heaven forbid he hurt his own citizen. America would without a doubt be devastated when the realization finally hit.

"Geez, don't overreact." England's eyes widened. "It's important that I have one, you never know when it'll come in handy." It was now England's turn to return a deadpanned expression. "Actually I think it's better to have several in different places for when the time comes." America smirked, his eyes scanning the room.

"Don't overreact?" England exclaimed, rubbing his forehead. "You're telling me that you have guns scattered around the house!"

"Not scattered!" America denied, waving his hands, making the Brit cringe at his unsafe behavior. "They're strategically placed for maximum utility."

"Max—Alfred…" The shorter man groaned. "Do you listen to yourself?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" He lifted up his hands in frustration. "Look, it's not a big deal. I want to make sure I'm prepared. So, I put them where I thought they would be the most useful and one of those places just so happens to be me." America grinned, holding open his pant pocket, preparing it for the pistol he was about to put up. England looked on in horror when he realized what the younger nation was planning to do.

"What are you doing?" He asked. "You can't just put a loaded gun in your pocket!" He continued, reaching out and grabbing hold of the weapon in his own hand before the tall nation had a chance to properly enclose it.

America's grasp never lessened around the weapon. Instead, without saying a word he instantly used his free hand to circle around the Brit's wrist. Frowning at the thought of being stopped, England pulled, still attempting to make the American release the firearm. It quickly became clear that his attempts were futile as America's grip stayed strong around both the gun and England's wrist. England would not quit so easily, it was not in his nature. He continued to yank, fighting for possession. It was truly a one-sided tug of war as America was not making any effort to pull, simply because he had no need to. "Alfred, just—" England began to say before an expressionless America finally made his first move. Despite England bringing his weight down in order to make himself heavy, America was able to use his power to reverse their positions. With England's back no longer facing the kitchen cabinets, America moved forward. England dug in his feet, yet realized that he had no other option but to back up, being pushed into an adjacent wall.

"Let it go, Arthur." America said low and in between his teeth, his glasses beginning to slip as he looked down at the frowning Brit.

England released several hefty breaths, not completely sure where they came from. "Alfred, just—why don't…" he paused trying to find the best way to speak to the obviously unstable American. "Why don't you just let it go? I think you need som—"

"Let it go, Arthur!" America interrupted in a shout as he took an extra step closer, pushing England further into the wall, if possible. "Aren't you breaking one your laws by just holding on to it?" America peered at the Brit's shining greens with such intensity that his own blues were slowly gathering a coat of wetness from his refusal to bat an eyelid. His brows descended so low that it appeared that they came directly from those blues.

England returned his own frown yet, remained silent, his lack of words being caused by anger and the inability to find the right thing to say. Breaking his contact with the taller man's eyes, he glanced over to their connected hands. His elbow bent up near his own head, being supported by the same wall that was holding him up straight. He could feel the eyes that continued to leer at him but, he could not take his own off the bizarre combination of skin and metal.

England didn't know how long they were standing in that odd position, their hands enclosed over a firearm with an additional hand around his wrist. At one point he had a fleeting thought of adding his free hand just so that all limbs would be accounted for. He knew they must have been standing there for a while if he had enough time to think about such dribble yet, the only sense of time he had was the ticking of the large grandfather clock America kept in the other room. It was a very old clock and America had owned it for a very many years but, England had no idea where it had come from, one day years ago it just showed up.

Entranced with their hands and the thoughts of the old wooden clock, he couldn't help but jolt up slightly when the said clock gave a powerful ring. Letting his sights off their grasp, he looked up at the American who never stopped staring him down. Thinking of nothing else he could do, England again found himself with no other option and slowly began to release his fingers one by one.

The second America regained complete hold on the pistol; he quickly removed his grip on the Brit's wrist, shoved the gun in his pocket and sped out the room. Staying behind, still leaning on the supportive wall, England brought his hand down, bringing it close. He brought his other hand upon his own wrist now and began to rub lightly. A soft gentle rub, just enough to soothe the ache and the ginger hue he realized he had gained.

/

England sighed as he turned a page in the book he held in his hands. He was attempting to relax on the large plush couch in the living room, but it was not as easy as it sounded. Though he read through every word on each page he was still unsure about what exactly he was reading. He could not retain anything, finding it much too difficult to focus. After making it half way through the short story all he knew about it was that there were people, three of them, being held by metal bands and wiring for their ability to dream of future crimes. In truth, that could still only be the summary he remembered.

It was not the story itself that kept him from focusing, it was interesting enough or the television set that remained on. No, it was the loud steps and banging he heard above him. Three days ago after a couple of days of near silence, America disappeared. England searched the whole house several times that morning, making sure that he was not hiding somewhere, looking for a good area for an additional bomb shelter. Yet, there were no signs of him, he was gone. But, he had now returned. He barged through the door and rushed upstairs, not saying a word to the Englishman who sat on the same couch as he did now.

England hadn't the slightest clue what the American could be up to. All he knew was that it involved a lot of walking around, dropping things, and cursing. A lot of cursing—well, that could be anything— England sighed as he turned another page, this time not even bothering to read it. No, his eyes were turned up at the creaking ceiling instead of the book in his hands.

After several minutes of following the steps, England could finally hear them going in the direction of the door way. He waited patiently until with one last swearword, the door was quickly opened and the American began walking his way down. England hearing this, didn't hesitate to lift the book that was lying idly on his lap. He looked intensely at the words, glaring at them almost. He hoped that somehow all the information would be transferred into his head because he had no idea what he was reading at this point—not that he ever did. Apparently through his mindless turning he had skipped a good 10 pages.

He resisted the urge to jump back into the couch when the American surprised him by stopping to stand directly in front of him. Neither said a word. America was obviously waiting for England to begin and England was just not wanting to. America was the one that disappeared for three days after manhandling him, only to come back to ignore him. No, he wasn't going to say a thing, but he was going to at least look at him. The feeling of someone staring down at you while you looked away was rather unnerving. So, shutting his book after placing an ultimately useless bookmark, he looked up.

England prepared one of his infamous glares for his look up, one that would clearly demonstrate exactly how he has feeling without having to say a thing. He was known for being good at these looks so, he had confidence that his would say thousands. The expression he worked on so hard however, did not have a chance to live long for a box was surprisingly shoved into his face. This, of course, changed his expression to one of confusion and irritation yet, it still clearly spoke volumes. He demanded answers.

"I bought you shoes?" America said simply, attempting a smile that reverted back to a thin line, England did not looked pleased. America quickly learned that his charms were not going to get him far this time around. He had successfully dug himself into a whole, metaphorically, went well with the literal object out back.

"Is buying me shoes your new way of keeping my mouth shut?" England asked, never taking his sights off the poorly wrapped box. Gift Wrapping was not one of America's graces. Yet, it became apparent what the cause of the walking around, dropping of things, and the large amount of cursing was.

"What? No!"America rapidly replied, scrunching his nose. "The brown ones—" he took a glance down at the shoes in question. "They were a thank you gift." He coughed. "These—" He said hosting the box up just a tad. "These are an 'I'm sorry' gift." He smiled sadly.

"So, you're trying to buy my forgiveness?" America shook his head. Why did England have to make everything so difficult?

"No, that's not it." He sighed, scratching the side of his head. "Just—I…Just take them, Arthur, please?" This wasn't easy for him. He wished England would just accept his form of an apology. England should understand, saying 'I'm sorry' isn't the easiest thing for him either. It was always a great feat when he managed to utter the words.

"Fine, Alfred. What exactly are you apologizing for?" America looked away flustered, uncomfortable with the Brits interrogation.

"I don't know." He shrugged. "…everything." After several seconds more, America finally turned back around and moved the box closer to England's direction, presenting it once more. "Please." He repeated.

England sighed yet, nodded regardless. Placing the all but forgotten book next to him on the couch, England grabbed the box in his hands. The wrapping was of a generic print, just simple multi-colored dots. It seemed too tight on one end, almost at the point of ripping and too loose on the other, with large air bubbles. England tugged on one side of the paper, finding it slightly difficult because of the over use of tape.

As England got closer to opening his gift the more anxious the American became. As England removed the top of the shoe box, America intertwined his fingers to stop their fidgeting. "They're blue…"England said, curling his lips as he took a good look at the unique footwear.

"And suede!" America smiled gleefully.

"I see…"

"Feel." America corrected.

"Right, of course." England agreed, removing his hand from the soft suede he was indeed feeling. "They're quite—nice, thank you." He said despite his inner thoughts about how unpractical these shoes were. Sure, they were nice looking and rather—flashy but, there were only so many things you could match with blue shoes. Then, there was the maintenance. England took great pride in taking good care of his belongings but, suede on your feet?

Nevertheless, he was both grateful and apprehensive about receiving the gift. On one hand, America was attempting to make it all up to him. Everything, America said. A sweet gesture, he supposed. On the other hand, wasn't it just buying his forgiveness? America should surely know his slight weakness, his inability to stay angry at the younger nation for long. It also left open the question of where exactly the American had run off to.

"Well?" England cocked a brow.

"Well?" America asked back, scratching the back of his hand.

"Well, aren't you going to explain yourself?" England said frustrated with the American's stubbornness. He was not planning on letting the younger nation leave without a proper explanation on his decision to leave him, a guest, stranded. Okay, so he could be exaggerating a bit. He wasn't necessarily stranded but he did not appreciate it all the same.

"Explain myself?" America again mimicked the Brit, smiling awkwardly when the elder nation stared back with an unimpressed expression. His lids half closed in boredom. America sighed. No, his charm was not going to get him anywhere at all. "You—you remember my citizen…" he trailed off, leaving England with the urge to tell him that he had many citizens just before he continued. "The one I told you was in charge of the bus boycotts."

"Ah, yes." England nodded. He remembered that young man quite well. America spoke of him both often and fondly. He was doing much for the fight for civil rights among America's people.

"Yeah," America nodded in return. "Well, I kind of went to Alabama to see him."

"Oh." England said simply. He was not expecting that as an answer. He wasn't entirely certain what he had been anticipating but, that was not it. Things with the young and often over-active country were not normally that easy. "Why didn't you tell me?" He asked. "I would have gone along with you."

America shrugged once more like before, a nervous twitch he seemed to have picked up for exactly this conversation. "It kind of wasn't planned." He looked down solemnly as if pondering the best way to say what was to come. "His house was sort of—bombed."

"What?" England's eyes widened as he began making his way up before being stopped by one of the American's signals.

"It's okay." America shook his head and smile very lightly at the again seated Brit. "He's okay, family too." He reassured himself though he faced the tea loving Brit. He was currently hurting inside, knowing and feeling what his citizens were doing to each other. He needed to constantly remind himself that the incident ended with no one hurt. That was the only thing that made him feel slightly better, that and the faith that everything would ultimately change for the better. "It's just—we weren't exactly on speaking terms." He went on, England glancing down at the shoe box still in his hands.

Things had become strained between the two nations after the bizarre occurrence that happened to them in the kitchen that day, America's guilt being firmly displayed by the light bruises that still resided on the inner side of England's wrist. Words had been spoken but, every sight of those marks made the usually happy nation cringe and leave the room. "Then, the bombing happened so I didn't really stop to think." America carried on after a short silence that had filled the room. "I just got up and left."

The older nation released a hum in understanding. He still did not appreciate being abandoned yet, he truly understood the intense sense of urgency one would sometimes gain in regards to their citizens. They were connected after all. "So—you're certain that they're all alright?" England asked, feeling the shift and dip down at the added weight that joined him.

"Yeah." Said the ashy blonde sitting hunched over, arms resting on his legs as he examined his hands. They were rather large, his fingers being round and filled, unlike the long and slender fingers of his companion next to him. They were rough, covered in calluses and blisters, no doubt a result of the shovel he held. Turning them over, he began to pick at the thin line of dirt within his nails. His nails being too short to fully make a different and with a sigh, he gave up. "He wasn't home. Was speaking at a mass meeting when it happened." He said leaning all the way back into the couch, his head tilted back, eyes closed. "First thing he did when he got there was to make sure his family was okay." He covered his face with both hands, rubbing slowly. "They were fine."

"That's good." England said softly, being caught by surprise when his hand was taken in by another. They were warm, a good contrast to his cool, he noted as he revised their intertwined appendages. The roughness of either hand was their similarity. His own rubbed raw several times from past battles.

They sat in a comfortable silence, the sounds of popular music coming from the TV working as their background. America, still leaning his head back into the couch opened up his eyes into a slit. He studied the Brit next to him. Noticing how he sat up as straight as ever despite being relaxed. Observed how he switched his attention from the dancing teenagers on the television program to the blue colored shoes he still firmly held on his lap. Taking in every move his hands made. The small circles being created with his thumbs on the back of the American's palm as well on the soft leather.

Just as the Brit tilted the shoes to get a better look that their other side, he was again caught by surprise. With an abrupt lunge, the American sat up and with his free hand ripped the box out of England's lap, it landing with a loud thump on the floor. "Alfred—" England questioned, sharply turning his head to only meet a different shade of blue.

The blues stared him down unblinkingly, stopping England in mid-sentence, making him completely forget the words he was planning to say. Instead, he followed the hand that reached up to cup his face gently. Closing his own greens as he leaned into the warm touch he felt another being placed just over his prominent brows.

America smiled at the slight tickle his lips felt from kissing the bushy creatures on the other nation's face. "Alfred?" England whispered, being answered by another tender kiss just below his eye.

Reopened his greens, England was greeted with a kind smile and a hand running through his saggy hair. He didn't know where the American's behavior came from. It just seemed to have come out of nowhere but, he was not about to start complaining. It was a nice switch from the irrational behavior he had to deal with. He would attempt to question it if not for the distractions that always came. This time, his lips were unable to make a move as they were currently being traced with the coarse yet gentle touch of America's thumb.

England released a content sigh as the younger nation placed a teasing peck on his lower lip followed by a trail down his jaw. The butterfly kisses began just below his ear until again reaching his mouth, his upper lip getting the attention. England reclosed his eyes just as America leaned in and fully covered his mouth over his own. England continued to feel hands massaging through his locks as he kissed back without hesitation. Turning the tables, he slid his tongue across the American's lips demanding entrance. Happy to oblige, America opened his lips and traveled his way into the Brit's mouth as well.

Finally removing his hands from the blonde tresses, America wrapped his arms around the Brit's waist as he felt arms circle around his neck. Those arms pulled him down onto the couch and he again was happy to go along with the Brit's commands. Never letting go, they shifted their positions in order to lie completely on the couch. They continued to explore each other, America's hands finding themselves again tangled within the uncontrollable locks of England's hair. There was something about their unruly order that intrigued him so.

It wasn't until their lungs begged for air that they finally separated. America placing the tiniest kiss on the corner of England's mouth before leaning up just enough to fully take in the sight of the Englishman underneath him. England was at a loss for words at the intensity of the American's stare. His blue eyes piercing through him, looking at him like it was the first time in days. Considering their past week, perhaps it was. "What?" England asked when the sweet smile the American was giving him turned bitter.

He sighed with a shrugged and looked away. "They have a ten week old baby, Arthur." England's eyes softened with his words. Knowing he was being plagued by what he saw. Reaching out, England grabbed either side of his face, forcing him to return his focus.

"You knew it wouldn't be easy, Alfred." America nodded into the comforting hands making their way to his hairline and back. "But, I know it'll end well; and before you ask." England said quickly, covering up the American's mouth before he had a chance to speak. "I just do—you've always had this ability to—pull through, I suppose." He smirked, receiving a real smile as a glimmer returned to the baby blues.

"I love you." America whispered.

England smiled, voicing it back without words. Slipping his hands to the thin frames that accented the younger man's face, he began to pull. His goal was to have them removed, to further reveal the eyes behind the lens. "No, don't." America protested, taking England's right hand into his, placing a chaste kiss upon it. "I want to be able to see you right." He said right before once again capturing the Brit's mouth with his own.

* * *

><p>England sighed as he rested on his palm, which further rested on the arm of his teal colored sofa. "Are you feeling well?" he asked the brown haired teenager lying down on the other half of the couch. "You look tired." The boy shrugged as he sat up slightly, using the other couch arm as his back rest.<p>

"So do you." He replied, taking a bite of the jerky he held.

"Yes, I suppose you're right." England said rolling his head from side to side. "We're both doing splendidly." He released a soft yawn as he rubbed his tired eyes.

"Hmm…" The youngster replied, causing the blonde to pop his eyes open when he felt added weight. Deciding that he needed more space to relax, the Asian teenager stretched his leg across the Brit's lap. Sitting up straight, England gave a look over and received a mischievous smirk.

"You seem to be getting heavier there." England smiled as he watched the boy's smirk that slowly transformed into a riled frown.

"So are you." The Asian responded, his irritation rising as England began a chuckled laugh.

"Now you know that's not true." England said in-between laughs. The Asian's agitation was being rather entertaining, especially after his horrible attempt at a comeback. Perhaps England could give him some pointers. Then again, the boy could be unruly as it was. "But really—" England placed a calming hand on the Asian's ankle as he was given another nonchalant shrug.

As the room was filled with the sounds of the soft melody coming from the radio, England returned to his palm for support. He shut his eyes and relaxed, concentrating on the sweet sounds. Trying his hardest to drown out the noise Hong Kong made as he found for dominance against the dried meat. Times like this were always some of his favorites, just sitting comfortably at home.

As England began to lose himself in the music, his mind creating a paradise, it all crashed down just as fast as it came. Both nations flinched violently, fully become awake and aware when the front door flew open with an unfathomable force and hit the wall with a deafening bang. Not wasting any time at all, England quickly stood. Hong Kong decided to stay seated on the couch, his knees nearing his chest. "What the—

"I've tried to stop him all the way here," Interrupted a nearly breathless Canada, holding a face of sheer worry as he followed behind the frantic American that came barging in through the open door.

"What on earth is going on?" England yelled, demanding answers.

"What were you thinking?" America growled through his teeth, shooting a deadly glare, causing the three other individuals to bear a perplexed expression.

"What was I thinking?" The Brit returned the question, a hand rubbing his forehead. "You're the one that slammed a hole into my wall." He exclaimed throwing his arm in the direction of the freshly created crater created by the door knob. "Now, if you could kindly tell me—what is going on?"

"What were you thinking?" America repeated in the same gritted matter, both Canada and Hong Kong shifting their sights from side to side between the two nations.

"Thinking about what?" England flared his arms in frustration as the American, with a few large steps made his way to him.

"About Suez, the canal!" America yelled as he stepped in front of the Brit, grabbing each arm and giving him a shake. Startled with the unexpected aggression, the young Asian quickly stood up from his seat, taking a few steps back behind his adopted boss.

England's eye widened at the American's words. He didn't know why he wasn't excepting for that to be brought up, probably because he was hoping it wouldn't. His eye stirred frantically, avoiding eye contact and trying to ignore the hands and pierce on him. "Well?" America again shouted giving the shorter man another shake, angering him.

Placing his hands firmly on the American's chest he gave him a powerful shove, providing them with much needed space. "Well, what?" England shouted with his nostrils flared. "In fact I'm taken aback that you didn't join along. It's right up our alley, isn't it?" he said trying to step away to only be blocked.

"No, actually it's not." America said once again obstructing the irritated Englishman's path. "Besides, didn't want to be a third wheel." He continued. The comment stopping the Brit from his attempts to escape and granting a glower, one the American had not seen come from the island nation in a long time. "Because you claim to hate him but you just can't seem to keep away from France when it comes to things like this, huh?"

"Don't you dare—" England snarled so low that the Asian had to strain to hear his words despite being close to the bickering pair. "Did you forget that you were the one working with him for _his_ war?" he argued back, finally managing to step around and away.

"That was different." America said, still facing the same direction. His eyes now making contact with the short dark haired nation he missed before. As Hong Kong looked back unknowing what to do, his usual nonchalant expression was being distorted with a slight crease at the brow. "What are you looking at commie?"

"Leave him out of it." Hong Kong heard as he was yanked away and towards the other North American across the room. "With your knowledge on communism you should know he isn't." England finished, turning to the American once making sure the younger nation was a good distance away. England knew how uncontrollable and unpredictable the American had been as of late. He would run on full emotion, not being able to handle it all and ultimately lash out. His fight with Russia was still embedded into England's mind. Pulling him away from the soviet was a grand struggle and did not want it to happen again, especially with someone who shouldn't have any part of it.

"Sorry." America tilted his head. "Was I confusing the kind of colonies you want?" he said, his words dripping with a patronizing tone.

"I don't understand your problem!" England yelled, curling his lips in fury. It was very apparent that there was going to be a turns of events. This time called for a blow up from the British nation as well. He tried with all his will power to remain calm but America knew him too well, knew exactly which buttons to push. "I thought you would be all over it! Isn't this what you want?" his voice quivered. "I thought you would support me." He exhaled deeply.

"Yeah. Well, I don't." America said casually.

England stayed silenct for brief moment as he tried to piece together what he was feeling. Irritation? Frustration? Anger?—Hurt? "Didn't you want me to support you just because it was you?" America rolled his hands into a fist. "And this exactly what you do."

"No, it's not." America said again finding the volume to his voice.

"Isn't it?" England asked finding the same switch. "It seems like that's all you've been doing." He continued, bracing himself as he knew that he had just found his way to the American's own button. Just as he expected, the American gritted his teeth and began to make quick and sturdy strides towards him.

"Al." called out the Canadian who remained quiet until then. He had hoped that his shout out would have been enough to break the American's concentration but like many other times, his voice was simply ignored. He found himself wincing as he saw the superpower backing the Brit into a nearby wall; again blocking the Brit from any further movement.

"It's not!" England felt a strong sense of déjà vu as America shouted. He stood so close that England could feel his hot breath upon his face, a lingering smell of coffee escaping.

"You were trying to do the same thing." England said attempting to hold in his anger. There was no sense in having two people running on pure emotion. He had to be the one to keep a sense of order.

"It was not, Arthur." American shook his head, backing up slightly. "And you know it." England turned his head, not wanting anything to do with the American's words. He did not want to hear a thing that left his mouth. "I was trying to get Egypt to work with me." The taller nation said, tilting his head, attempting to make the Brit look at him in the eyes. "I wasn't trying to control him."

Turning around with a glare, England made an effort to get out of his corner without saying a thing. "I know you need the canal." America said, continuing his trend of stopping the Brit from leaving.

"Move." England snarled.

"But that doesn't mean you try to be all flag stamping." America went on, ignoring the Brit's demands.

"Let me go." England was becoming increasingly desperate as his inner rage began to slip out. He zigged and zagged trying any means it took to flee from his barrier yet, any way he turned the American was there. "Get out of the way, Alfred." He said, beginning to push at the taller nation.

"Quit trying to deny it, Arthur."

With the final prodding England snapped. With a look that the American hadn't seen for an even longer time then the last, he once again made his way to leave. "I'm not denying anything, move!" He shouted, knowing he had to get out as he was finding it difficult to breathe. The American not letting anything go without a fight held out an arm as a wall, which quickly came crashing down. In a swift move, England grabbed hold of the arm, pushed upon it before pulling it forward, twisting it around him. Using the momentum and the American's loss of footing, England switched their position and pushed the bigger man into the wall. "I've had enough of you." He barked.

The American with a stunned expression stayed still for several seconds. Not liking their changed positioned, America glared and tried to move forward to only be slammed into the wall once more. England looked up at the taller man, a hand on the his chest. Yes, England was of a smaller stature, always has been. Yet, he had been through a lot and during his life of war and his life as a pirate he had to learn to fight with others of all sizes. "I think you clearly forgot who I am." England said as the American frowned.

"Who you were." He said nonchalantly, watching as the Englishman's eyes began to dance and the hold his had lessened. "Because that's what it's all about, isn't it?" He asked casually as ever.

Completely removing his hand from the American's chest, England stepped back, shaking his head the entire time. "No." he whispered, running his fingers through his hair. He turned around, facing away and found himself being watched by his former and current colony.

"Arthur—"

"I have nothing!" England yelled, turning back to face the American. "It's all gone." He continued, mostly to himself. He began fidgeting, pacing from side to side, running his hands through his hair, and avoiding contact with everyone in the room. The remaining inhabitants of the room watched on in silence as they watched the elder nation go through what seemed to be a nervous breakdown. "I used to—" he began to say, quickly stopping when the words refused to come out. "I used to be—" he tried again, turning his back to all, being seen like this bothered him enough. "I used to be so…" he brought his arms out on either side. "So…"

"…big." England cringed the second he heard America finish the sentence, it hurting just as much as it did the first time he heard it. Back then it was only America who had lost his previous vision of the island nation. The difference this time around was that everyone else saw it too, and that killed him. When he had lost America all those years ago at least he knew he would always have his status, but the war had changed that.

"That doesn't mean you have to go and try it all again." America voice finally softened from the former shrill tone as he made his way over to the Brit.

"Don't you think I know that?" England replied loudly, looking back towards America just as he stepped directly behind him. England looked up to the American and was surprised to see a sympathetic glaze. He flinched when America lifted a hand, bringing it towards his face. But, was again surprised when the large hand gently wiped away at the tears he didn't know were falling.

"Aw, Artie..." America whispered. "It's okay."

Shaking his head as he did before, England lowered the other's arm and walked around to take a seat on the glass and granite coffee table in the center of the room. "You don't understand." He said, as he hunched over, letting his elbows rest on his knees.

"Artie…" America followed the older nation, kneeling in front of him. "Just because you're not that big doesn't mean you're nothing." The Brit said nothing. "And did you really think starting that war with Egypt was really a good idea?"

"I wasn't going to give up." England snapped, shooting his head up, meeting him face to face. "I was going to hold on to what I could." He frowned deeply, a stray tear joining along.

"But what do you have to prove?"

"Everything!" England shouted, his hands gripping the edges of the cool table. "You don't know how it feels!" he continued, not giving the American a chance to respond. "You and your bloody sea to shining sea, your boom, becoming a superpower." He paused. "You gained everything and I lost it all. And—'' he held up a hand, again stopping the American from opening his mouth. "And it's not that I'm angry with you. I'm not. But, you can never understand what it feels like—to fall." He finished softly, hunching over, covering his face with his hands. "I suppose I'm bitter." He muffled.

"No." America said suddenly. Now shaking his own head, he grabbed the Brit's hands, removing them from his face. "You're just different now, Artie." He smiled. "You've changed…but you'll never fall." He finished, softly cupping England's reddened face.

Finding America's words soothing and sweet, despite what he really believed, England couldn't help but to smile. The damned buffoon knew what to say sometimes. "I did believe you would support me, however. I would be lying if I said I wasn't completely shocked when you went against me."

Taking his hand off the Brit's face, American took hold of England hand and placed it upon his own cheek. Feeling the coolness that receded in England's hand, America sighed. "I kind of think I should have." He said, both smiling a bittersweet smile.

Not having to worry about either nation losing their temper and feeling incredibly awkward about just witnessing such an intimate moment, Canada believed it was the perfect time to make his leave. Grabbing hold of the young Asian by the shoulders, he began slowly pushing him along. Hong Kong had no problem letting the invisible force lead him to the kitchen but, found himself looking back at the pair the entire way, his curiosity obviously getting the best of him. And, with his mischievous smirk returning, he couldn't just leave without releasing one final statement,

"Get a room."

* * *

><p>AN:

1. In the 1950's when the Cold War was in full swing and people were terrified of the potential of a nuclear attack from the Soviet Union many people began digging shelters in their own backyards. It was a very 'hush hush' thing, many people hiding it from their neighbors and buying supplies in secret.

2. As mentioned before, despite the Cold War the relationship between Canada and communist Cuba always stayed peaceful, it making America not too happy.

3. Second Amendment to the Constitution of the United States-"The right to keep and bear arms"

4. The story that England is attempting to read in "The Minority Report" a 1956 science fiction short story by Philip K Dick, first published in _Fantastic Universe_. The story was about a future society where murders can be prevented through people who can see the future. It was adapted in to a film in 2002 by director Steven Spielberg and starring Tom Cruise.

5. Elvis Presley was a very popular American singer, known for transforming the field of popular music. He was known for his rock and roll style and dance moves that then seemed scandalous. It was in 1956 when he made his first recording and released one of his famous songs "Heartbreak Hotel" among others, one song being "Blue Suede Shoes." He was known as the King of Rock 'n' Roll or simply The King.

5. a. On January 30, 1956, in the middle of the Montgomery Bus Boycott and the Civil Rights Movement the house of Civil Rights Activist, Martin Luther King, Jr. was bombed. Luckily, he was speaking at a mass meeting at the First Baptist bank when it occurred. His wife and ten-week-old baby were also able to stay safe through it. King rushed to house upon hearing the news and later had the house surrounded by angry blacks that surrounding white reporters. King quickly calmed the crowd by enforcing nonviolence and peace.

b. The Montgomery Bus Boycott ended on November 13, 1956 after some struggle. On June 4, 1956 the federal district court ruled Alabama's segregation to be unconstitutional however, an appeal keeping the segregation intact and boycott going until November when the Supreme Court upheld the district court's ruling.

6. American Band Stand was popular program in the 1950's to the late 80's. It featured teenagers dancing to Top 40 Music and usually included at least one music act. The program inspired other of its kind such as Soul Train.

7. Hong Kong experienced a substantial increase of population caused by refuges from Mainland China during their Nationalist-Communist Civil War thus, Hong Kong being a bit heavy.

8. Hong Kong 1956 Riots- on October 10 1956, while Hong Kong celebrated an important Nationalist festival 1911 October Revolution, a resettlement officer ordered some Nationalist flags to be removed. This brought on looting and property attacks on what was known to belong to communist sympathizers. Hoping that it would die down by it elf authorizes did not intervene firmly, but by the next day it had developed into a full on riot. Communist-owned factories where attacked and some people were killed. Finally, the British decided to take action and had the British Army disperse the rioters.

b. I was just in Hong Kong mood so I decided to put him in, haha. He would be hanging around England around this time anyways.

9. a. The Suez Crisis- The crisis was a diplomatic and military confrontation between Egypt on one side and Britain, France, and Israel on the other for control of the Suez Canal. The canal allows for transportation between Europe and Asia without navigating around Africa. In 1956, Britain, France and Israel invaded Egypt. Britain was anxious about losing its remaining empire and the economic potential of the Middle East was a motivation. France also was nervous about the influenced the Egyptian president would have on its North African colonies. They both also wanted to keep the canal open as a channel for oil.

b. The attack caused a huge backlash from other nations including anti-war protests in Britain itself. Britain had looked for the United States for support but was surprised when their greatest ally strongly opposed the action. British Prime Minister felt abandoned by the American government. Eventually, with pressure from the US, the Soviet Union and UN, Britain and France were forced to withdraw. The loss was seen as a symbol for the end of the colonization era and the end of the British Empire as a Super Power.

c. Despite the US being opposed to Britain's action, the relationship did not suffer lasting consequences. The two found ways to reassure that the 'Special Relationship" would quickly be restored. President Eisenhower himself later said that he regretted opposing his allies. He felt as if he weakened two crucial Cold War allies and made the Egyptian president capable of dominating the region. Though the Special Relationship quickly healed, the Franco-American relationship never fully recovered.


	5. 1957

A/N:...Writer's block is a _biatch_…I went through a severe block this chapter and then the months just flew by like crazy. To make everyone feel better, including myself…at least it ended up to being slightly longer. That makes up for something, right? Right?

* * *

><p>As his stomach churned, his brows creased despite already having his eyes tightly shut. He sucked in a breath unintentionally as an unexplainable heat surrounded his body, almost as if piercing through his very skin. "Well, this is it." England proclaimed softly and muffled from behind the old gas mask covering his face. He truly hoped that this out of date equipment was good enough to protect the others on the ship. He had already heard a couple of murmurs about being able to see through their own hands, an image of ghostly bones staring back at them.<p>

He nervously licked his lips as the blinding light dimmed just enough for him to peek through his fingers. He blinked his eyes rapidly, wanting nothing more but to get rid of the flashing lights obstructing his vision. When the small orbs finally disappeared, he signed as he realized he was now the last to turn around. Not knowing what to expect he braced himself for what ultimately became a sight of something both magnificent and horrifying.

A brilliant glow of red, copper, and grey was emitted into the sky. They twisted into each other, all blurring into one. He blinked quickly, only when realizing that his eyes were beginning to sting. His ears were buzzing with the sounds of the others on board as they commented on what they were seeing. Some seem terrified, others excited. He was unsure of where in that equation he fit in, maybe both or none at all. "There. We have our H-bomb." England muttered as he continued to watch the mushroom ascend into the natural clouds.

"Not a very good one." America replied, never taking his sights off of the smoke. So fully distracted by the glowing colors that he did not take notice of the piercing, not amused expression England was giving him. Hearing nothing but a heavy exhale coming from the Brit next to him, America at last looked away from the blast. "Ah…" he started off awkwardly. "I mean, it's just not a very big one." He gave a crooked smile. "Wasn't it supposed to be much bigger than this?" America asked, England continuing his stare for several seconds longer before rolling his eyes.

"Yes." He crossed his arms. "But this is good enough." He said, wishing he could rub his face through is gas mask. "It still demonstrates that we have the power to do it."

"Just not as big as me, eh?" America laughed as he received a shake of the head.

"Don't brag about it." England said, sounding exasperated, walking away from him and towards the railing of the ship.

"Hey, wait—"America quickly stepped forward, grabbing hold of the Brit's elbow. "Come on. I was just playing around." The American's words did not make England stop moving forward, but he also made no effort to remove the hand. "You're right. It does prove it." America softly shook England before moving his hand onto the Brit's shoulder.

"Don't need me now." He smiled lightly, eventually letting it fade as England continued to stare straight into the destructive cloud in the distance. At this point, America was not sure whether England had heard him at all.

"Artie?" America called, receiving only a lifted brow and a low hum, a simple sign of acknowledgement.

/

"Hey, Artie." America shouted outside of the small room within the ship. Not receiving any response, he went onto knocking on the wooden door like he had done so just previously. He really hoped England would answer him soon. He didn't know why but, the pounding sound along with the swaying of the ship was causing him to feel not too wonderful. The High Seas were more of an England thing anyways. He'd take soaring the skies over sailing the ocean blue any day of the week.

"Artie, wake up!" He said as he continued to knock on the door. "They're having like this sweet shindig out here. You have to join in and celebrate." America remained outside the door, beginning to feel awkward, feeling as if he was speaking to the still door itself. He also really wanted to be part of the party. He was starting to get really hungry. Then again, maybe he could wait seeing as his stomach was still making the occasional flip.

America bit his lower lip as he took a step forward, moving his face much closer to the wood. "Arthur?" He called out deeper and more serious as he was beginning to worry about the non-responsive Brit. "Are you okay?" He whispered loudly. "Are you even in there?" His eyes shifted from side to side. "Did you get kidnapped by pirate ghosts? Ghost pirates...pirate ghosts…gh—" America quickly recoiled back with surprise—not terror at all—just surprise when the door swung open, revealing a disheveled looking England.

Shaking his head, England lifted a hand to cover up the glare of the lowering sun. "Pirate ghost?" He asked with a sigh.

America shrugged, "It could happen." Lowering his hand to rub his seemingly tired eye, England stepped aside, letting the American enter into his quarters. "Why are you in here? Were you asleep?" America asked curiously as England sat down on the small bed in the corner of the room. The Brit's hair sure looked as if he had just woken up. It was poking up at odd angles, being more unruly than usual.

"No, not particularly." England said, feeling oddly observed as he traced the hemline of the light blue bed sheets.

"Um, okay. So, what were you doing?" The tall nation asked, shooting a quick look towards the outdoors. "They look like they're having a really good time." He smiled despite not being looked at.

"I bet they are." The messy haired man said, now following the traces he made. A fine stitch, he thought, for being a simple sheet on a military ship. He knew in the back of his mind that he didn't really care about the cool piece of fabric. He just wanted to avoid the American's judging stare, hoping that a lack of eye contact would prevent any unwanted conversations.

"Artie, Come on." America was beginning to get worried at England's stranger than usual behavior. He wasn't one to miss out on drinking , especially if it was on a ship. That was his thing. It always brought out some sort of nostalgia that yes, would eventually turn into a rant but, it was fun while it lasted. "Don't you—don't you want to celebrate?"

"No, not particularly." England shook his head, still not looking up. Yet, he could still feel the American's look of confusion, sensing the lift of the brow and the tilt of the head.

"You know, Arthur." America began. "I know you're trying to over compensate for losing your emp—" He immediately stopped mid sentence when the Brit's head shot up faster than he could have ever imagined, a deep and angry scowl directed towards him. It finally registered that it probably was not the best thing to say, not when the hurt of it happening was still so fresh. "I—what I meant was…" America stuttered. "I know that the bomb wasn't as big as you were hoping for but, like you said earlier, it still counts. You were able to do it, Artie." He hoped the pep talk was enough for the sulking Brit. America knew that England had been struggling to keep up with the whole nuclear bandwagon. Sure, it still needed some work but everyone had to start somewhere.

However, America's face quickly fell when he noticed England's head begin to shake, a hand reaching up to rub his weary face. "That's not it." He said with a sigh.

"Then what is?"

England exhaled deeply once more, turning over towards the direction of the cheers and laughter he could hear on the other side of the thin wall. "Contrary to popular belief, Alfred, I do get tired."

The puzzled American scrunched his brows and bit his lower lip as he went over the events of the day in his head. The early hours had been quite hectic with all the preparations that had to be done for the test bombing. However, after its success, the day had quickly become one of celebration, one that England took no part in.

For the past several hours England had locked himself within the confines of a small bedroom in the ship, one that he requested. He was to be left alone, he needed time to relax, he said. Many were surprised that he wouldn't join in the crew's merry ways but, figured he was stressed after all that had happened. Yes, even America had given him time on his own but, it was going on for too long now. "But you haven't really done anything." The taller nation said, earning him an irritated look.

"Not physically." England rubbed his forehead. "Well, yes, I suppose that as well, but that's not what I mean."

"Um, Arthur." America said walking over to take a seat next to the ex-pirate. The small bed was surprisingly comfortable. "I'm not getting what you mean." England moaned.

"You're never going to let me live this down." England smiled bitterly into his palm. Now, becoming even more curious the taller nation leaned in as if he was about to be given the secret of a lifetime. "I'm old." The indeed older nation revealed with a sulky laugh. After all the denying and defending, the younger nation was quite shocked at the admittance.

"Ah, Art—" America stared straight ahead at a small table across the room, his lips slightly turned upwards in amusement. He would have never expected that sort of confession.

"I'm not _that_ old." The Brit laughed, not wanting it to seem like a complete change of heart. "But, certainly older than you." He said much more solemnly, causing the tiny grin decorating the younger's nation to fade. America could internally feel the conversation taking a turn into something less enjoyable. Something he had anticipated the moment he walked through the threshold.

"I've been around for so long before we even knew you existed." England began again, moving his attention to the-oh, so, interesting bed sheets. He wanted to make it easier on himself and pretending that he was alone rather than speaking with the nation sitting next to him was the only way he knew how.

"My whole life has been one fight after another, war after war." America remained silent as England continued, pausing occasionally to find his wordings. "I know I brought some of those upon myself, of course." He sighed as a play by play of each battle he had ever fought flashed before his eyes. Like a film reel, clips of old forgotten fights, wars that changed the world, and battles that broke his heart went on. He continued on mentally counting the physical scars, the emotional being too much to even begin.

Somewhere between the slash on his right shoulder and the gash on his back, he felt a hand on his arm. "You just get so tired." He finally said, unsure of how long he was lost within his own mind.

"Arthur…I…"

"And we just want to keep it going." The elder interrupted the American who didn't know how to respond. "It's just an endless circle." He said, making a circular motion with his right index finger as he leaned back to rest against the wall.

"But Arthur—" America stood up to face the weary Englishman. "I don't get it." He scratched his head. "Isn't this what you wanted? " England looked away at his words. "You've been trying to catch up for years." England scowled.

"Just because I've been trying to get it doesn't mean I wanted it." He replied in a half like yell, one that seemed too loud even for him. Not wanting to deal with the look of confusion on the other's face, England groaned once more and slid down to lie on the bed. His face was now only partially visible, the second half being hidden away between the fluffs of the feathered pillow. "It's just a mess." He muttered.

"But, it's what you've been shooting for." America persisted, kneeling down, attempting to get a good view of the hidden face. "Isn't it the price you pay to be at the top table?" The Brit couldn't help but to raise his head and give a nasty peer to the younger man. America, for a split second displayed a look of regret.

"He's not stupid, Alfred." The American shook his head almost frantically, making it clear that implying that was not his intention. "And neither am I." England said, returning his head onto the white pillow. "We know It's better to have the bomb than to not." He closed his eyes. "…especially now." He whispered.

America's brows curled up in sympathy as he brought up his hand, stopping it just short of the Brit's head. When receiving no protest, seeing as England remained with his eyes shut, America proceeded with running his fingers through the Brit's hair. "It's not that big of a deal, Artie." He said with a pause at the Brit's hairline when a sudden laugh was released into the air.

"You are an enormous hypocrite, Alfred F. Jones." The Englishman lifted and shook his head as he removed the hand on his head. "You sir, know very well just how big of a deal it is." He smiled uneasily, pointing at the young blonde's face. They held their positions for countless minutes in silence, the roaring of the passengers and waves flooding their background. Both unable to find a way to handle the certain situation they placed for themselves they continued to stare. To pierce into each other's eyes, glancing into the soul they are said to contain.

It was England who broke their stance as he released a heavy sigh. Cupping the American's cheek, he leaned in and placed a tiny peck on America's lips. He moved away just as quickly as he had moved in as he lied back down, scooting closer to the wall in the process.

America didn't hesitate to take advantage of the invitation and joined the former empire on the cramped twin sized bed. "I hate seeing you so sad."

"I'm alright." England replied, turning onto his back. "Don't worry about it." He said facing the ceiling. "You know I can have my moments of mood swings." He smiled, attempting to lighten the mood. He glanced over with his peripheral vision hoping to see a smile in return. He instead was greeted with a somber stare.

"Arthur—" The American started with a hesitation. "It worked. You're a nuclear power now an—and –" he said struggling. "And I already told you. I don't think you fell…because you can't…and—"

"Oh, it happens to the best of us." England interrupted nonchalantly with the hasty wave of the hand. Though it pained him to say it, he knew it was true. He'd been around long enough to watch many empires come and go.

"Even me?" America asked as an uncharacteristic murmur, the question lingering in the air as he began to shuffle anxiously. He took quick peeks at the Brit's unreadable face, waiting for an answer.

England could feel the restless plead being channeled to him, the hope for a happy response radiating from all of America's being. Closing his eyes he focused on the jagged breaths America was taking in comparison to his own. He could easily fulfill the wish. Feed the American with dreams of always remaining the world's golden boy, to forever be on top. Yet, he knew very well how things could change. "Anything is possible." He finally replied. The truth, but nothing too crushing. He couldn't bring himself to do anything else.

He turned back to his side, again facing the younger still optimistic nation. He wished that that inner youth would remain. What a shame it would be if it were to slowly begin to disappear. He smiled, receiving an unconvincing one in return. Releasing what he hoped would be the last sigh of the night; he placed a small simple kiss on the other's forehead. "Don't be Rome." He whispered.

* * *

><p>"Open this door!" England yelled knocking forcefully on the plank of wood that was working as his barrier to the inside. "Damn it, Alfred!" He cursed the yet to be seen American.<p>

England knew he was there, somewhere. There was no other place he'd be. Now, only if he would answer the blasted door. "Alfred, if you don't open up in the next 5 seconds I'm going to—open…the bloody door myself." He said, gradually lowering his volume. He shut his eyes and covered his face before reaching into this pants pocket, pulling out several silver colored keys. "How do I always forget?" He asked, slipping the key into the lock on the door handle.

He was given the key to the American's house after the incident the previous year. America never did stop feeling guilty about what had happened, what he had done. Giving England the key was the only way he could think of to truly prove that he did indeed trust him, even if England never doubted. It was all about America trying to prove it to himself.

As England entered the large home, he was immediately concerned and distraught by the sounds of rapid steps. They were coming from the kitchen and were accompanied by inaudible shots.

As he walked closer to the kitchen the yells became louder. He could hear that there were two distinct voices, though one was generally softer. Reaching the swinging door, he could now clearly make out that one of the voices sounded like a plea. Taking a deep breath he readied himself for what he would see next.

"I can't get him to come out!" The desperate blonde shouted at England the second he walked into the room. Trying to take the scene in, it finally hit registered that it was the quiet Canadian that instantly turned to face the doorway when the Brit walked in. Canada was ecstatic to finally have some help, though it was overshadowed by his look of worry.

"What's going on here?"England asked as he continued to examine the nearly destroyed room. The dining chairs were scattered around, plates and silverware in random locations, the table that was pushed against the wall looked like it had gone through hell.

"I can't get him to come out." Canada repeated quieter than the last, shooting both of his arms in the direction of the dining room table. Lifting his upper lip lightly, not unlike Elvis, England made his way to the piece of furniture. "I've been trying for th—"The Canadian stopped his statement when the elder nation lifted a hand.

Reaching the table, England shot a look over his shoulder before falling down to his knees. "Oh…" He exclaimed at the sight before him.

America, the boisterous, proud, overzealous nation with a hero complex was sitting up with the support of the wall. He was curled up, his knees up to his chest, his arm wrapped around them, and his head tucked into them. "Alfred…" England called out gently, eyeing him warily with large doses of confusion in the mix.

Covering his mouth and furrowing his brows, England shook his head before turning back towards the Canadian standing behind him. Canada shrugged knowing exactly what the Brit asked without words. "It's so they can't read his mind."

Widening his eyes as he nodded slowly, England shifted his sights once more. "Alfred…" He said again, unable to keep his attention off the American's head. Covering all of his hair and stopping at mid-forehead was a hat made out of what appeared to be aluminum. It was thin and shiny, no doubt made of American's own kitchen supplies.

England didn't know what to make of it, didn't know how to react to it. He could hear the shuffles of the young nation behind him. Who knew how long the Canadian had been here, trying to get his brother to leave the confines of his indestructible shelter. There had obviously been some sort of struggle. Scratching his head, England decided the only way to reach the American was to crawl under himself.

"Alfred, are you alright?" The Brit asked, placing a comforting hand upon the other's shoulder. There was no reply other than the shivering the English nation could feel underneath his fingers. "It's just me." He reassured the frightened man, though he knew it would be futile. America was well aware who he was.

"Ssshh…" America hissed as he raised his head just enough to have one of his light blue orbs visible. England stared intensely at the only window he had, wrinkling his forehead when he noticed just how cloudy it was. "They can hear you…" America whispered. "Artie, they can hear you…shhh…" He implored, scooting closer to the Brit, yet never removing his head from its secured position. "You need one of these." He pointed to the foil hat on his head.

"Alfred, I don't think they can really hear us." The tea enthusiast said as he finally removed his hand from the other's shoulder.

"Yes, they can!" America shouted, breaking his own rule about remaining as quiet as possible. "I bet they're scanning the room right now." He went on, his voice gruff as he changed his positions to all four.

England backed up unintentionally when America began moving closer to him, peering at him with such panic. England lifted his hands up in front of him quickly, his palms facing the American. As the younger nation complied momentarily and stopped his movements, England began to fidget. He constantly glanced over to the rest of the kitchen, feeling a sense of relief when seeing the legs of the pacing Canadian still there.

"Arthur, you _NEED_ to put one on _NOW."_ America emphasized, again inching closer.

As Canada was getting curious of the happenings under the table, he bent his knees and peered in, his purple catching green looking back at him. Turning back to the nation accompanying him in a make shift cave, England swallowed nothing. "Alfred…" He said gingerly. "You need to breathe. You're worrying more than you need to."

"Not worry?" America exclaimed, crawling quickly, trying to close the rest of the gap between the two. "I'm not worrying enough!" He said as he was about to reach the elder blonde. He completely missed him, however. England did not waste any time and scooted out through the end of the table, nearly missing the leg on his way out.

England got to his feet as fast as his legs could move, jumping slightly when backing into something firm. Glancing up, he caught wind of the wavy blonde hair and relaxed. Canada gave a comforting squeeze to both of his arms before taking a step towards the direction of his brother. "Al—"

"Shut up, Mattie!" The American yelled, poking his head out from underneath. "You should be putting one of these on too!" His eyes shook radically, his pupils seemed dilated as his head twisted in all angles. He examined everything his vision could reach, preparing different plans, one for every situation. England and Canada observed him as he turned at any small noise that sounded. They noticed the occasional squint his eyes made, unknowing that they marked a hiding spot for one of his many weapons of choice.

"Alfred, love." England bowed faintly, catching the attention of the American with a jerked spin of the head. "I need you to—"

"I can't calm down!" The American interrupted, the Brit standing up to full height. "How the hell do you expect me to calm down?" He slammed a hand on the cold tile floor underneath him.

"Please just…" England asked almost silently.

"Come on, Al." Canada called out, attempting a nervous smile. "At least get out of there."

"No!" America madly shook his head, gritting his teeth. "You don't understand." He braced himself with his two fists upon the ground. "How can I calm down?" he exhaled harshly, grunting. "I already have to worry about my own people trying to kill each other." He roughly ran a shaking hand through his hair. "They can't stop fighting for one second and just push and push until someone has to die." His lip quivered. "It's not fair…"

"Alfre—"

"And now!" The American interjected once more. "I have to worry about the damn commies coming after me too." He said sitting back, using his legs to push himself back to his original position against the wall. "They could be watching everything we do, figuring out all our military secrets, finding our weak points, and planning for their attack." His breaths elevated to near hyperventilation. "Oh god, what if the satellite is directly above us right now?" He glanced up despite only being able to see the beige piece of wood. "I haven't even finished my bomb shelter." He said more to himself than anyone else.

England closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he released a sigh. "What are we supposed to do?" He asked loud enough for only the Canadian to hear.

"I don't know." Canada twirled the long strand of hair that fell down his face, a nervous tick. "I've been trying to get him to come out for several hours." He rubbed his face with his right hand as he showcased the room with his left. "There was obviously a struggle."

England nodded; eyeing the scruff marks the table legs must have left behind as it moved across the floor. "This is the first time he's ever really spoken up though." Canada presented a bittersweet smile. "I guess that's a start." England did not reply, did not notice the hesitant grin as he held his eyes tightly shut and softly massaged his forehead. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." The Brit lowered his arm, answering with a surprising gusto. "I'm not the one having a psychotic breakdown." He said matter of fact, stepping back towards the want to be bomb shelter.

England let out a worried sigh as he nervously rubbed his hands on his trousers, ridding the sweat that covered his palms. As he licked his lips, he bent down to his knees once more and peered underneath the wooden table. Narrowing his brows he let out a nonsensical stutter.

"What's wrong?" Canada asked, the brit turning around with a frenzy and panic in his eyes.

"He's gone."

"What?" Canada yelled as he hurried to take a look himself. "Where'd he go?" he asked searing in every direction, glazing every nick and cranny.

England growled, standing up in a fiery. "That blasted American."

The quiet nation watched his elder, unable to find any words. After some jittering, he knew they had to do something. They had to find where his uncontrollable brother was before he hurt himself or others "I'll go check his room." The maple lover exclaimed as he quickly left the room, leaving the Brit along in the room. Leaving him to contemplate what their next move should be.

/

"Get in!"

"No, you get out!"

"Matti!"

"Al!"

"Stop it, you too!" England shouted from across the hall. He had searched the upper floor of the American's home to find nothing. So as he was making his way back to the kitchen e again heard the muttered voices. Once he turned the corner he found the North American brothers crowding the hallway closet.

"Matthew." England called, rising only one brow. The younger nation failed to fight the urge to roll his eyes at the reprimanding tone. Of course he would be the one to get in trouble. Yet, Canada pushed the thought aside. His brother was the one having a fit after all.

"Alfr—"

"He won't get in, Artie!" America exclaimed, his hand gripping so tightly around the door frame that his knuckles turned white. The Brit was relieved that America had a least lost the aluminum head gear.

"There's no reason for him to." England replied, keeping his voice down, trying to keep his cool. It would not help if he began yelling in return."Yes, he does!" the American said slamming one of his hands on the frame. "And so do you!" He reached forward attempting to grab onto the Brits arm. England anticipating the move quickly back out of the way, too far for the American to reach without stepping out. "You both have to get in." America looked desperate, wanting both nations to join him but fearing what would happen if he stepped out of this comfort zone.

"I haven't finished my bomb shelter, but we still have to find somewhere to hide. This closet is under the stairs. It should do some good, right?" He asked with a plea.

"Al, I really don't think it'll make a difference." The Canadian replied, finally letting himself go back to his usual speaking voice.

"It's better than the table!" America shot a look at the oldest nation. He was seeking approve, especially as he remembered their previous conversation years ago. He remembered the chat where England made it very clear that the table was ultimately useless.

"Ah, Al—Alfred—" England mumbled, avoiding the American's light blue orbs. He instead moved his vision on to the other brother, the brother who carried the same confused and apprehensive demeanor.

"I don't have anything else." America sniffed, his eyes begging to redden. "I have to find a way to stay safe." He rubbed his face harshly. "Have to find a way to keep you safe." He fought gasp of airs as he continued on, all while trying to control his jittery hands. "So, please…" he begged, letting one teardrop fall down his cheek. "Please get inside."

England took a step closer yet, remained out of arms reach. "Alfred, love…" He shook his head. "No."

America's entire being went silent, his shaking hands, his weeping eyes, and his jagged breaths made a sporadic stop. It was as if the tear itself vanished. With that, America lowered his arms from the frame he was crushing. He tilted his chin downward, his sky colored eyes becoming ever more present.

"Fine." He said low and direct. His words, just like his eyes pierced through any hope England and Canada had about this ending peacefully.

Utter silence filled the hallway as America stood motionless. The fluttering sound of a hummingbird's wings lingered from outside the window. The leaky sink on the second floor made tiny explosions every time the water drop hit the sink, the hearts of the nations beat loudly, the rhythm reminiscent to the sound of a hospital's heart monitor. As England blinked and turned his head towards the Canadian, America lifted his head up fully.

"I'll just have to do it myself!" The American shouted, lunging forward, leaving the comfort of the small storage room. England was not given enough time to face back around let alone move out of the way as the American's hand grasped around his wrist.

"Alfred." England called out, hoping that would bring the frantic nation into his senses. When it failed, the Brit began his attempts to pull free. He yanked his captured arm and pried with his free hand. As he fought for his ironic freedom, his mind blanked. Too distracted with getting away and shouting for the American to stop, he did not hear when Canada yelled his own protest.

"Al, stop it!" Canada dove over with such velocity, usually unexpected from the nation. It was only those who have witnessed the shy Canadian in battle that could not have been surprised. Seeing as America was one of those few nations that was blessed and burdened to have fought alongside and against the Canadian, he knew to be prepared. He knew that Canada had full intent on helping release the captured nation and he was close. The wavy haired blonde was close to reaching the Brit when his own arm was grabbed.

America's adrenaline and panic only added to his normal strength and speed, not giving the maple lover enough time to make an alternate plan before having his arm seized. It was not until the Canadian noticed that despite his brother's power, the struggle to keep both nations undernwrap was making it difficult for America to keep his balance.

It was then that Canada used their only real opportunity and advantage to use his own power and strength to push his brother into the wall behind, England getting dragged along the entire way. England gritted his teeth as he felt the tug upon his wrist and the burn on his knee as they scraped the floor when America's hand lowered.

America's eyes were anywhere from silent now as he practically snarled each time his brother pushed him back during his attempts to escape. Canada was not going to waste any time. Knowing that the America's hold on them was being compromised with fury, he lifted his captured hand, bringing along his brother's and slammed them into the wall. Despite also hurting himself, Canada had to work fast before America blew up once more.

America could feel his own anger elevating with every blow, every banging sound of his hand colliding with the drywall becoming his entrance to a new level. He tried to calm himself, knowing somewhere deep down that everything had gotten out of hand. But, eventually all his efforts failed. With a screeching shout he pushed himself off the wall, plowing through his brother's attempts to keep him there.

Either ignoring or unable to feel the tugs, pulls, or pushes of his hostages, America made his way back to the closet. He was going to get stubborn the nations into the small room one way or another, whether they liked it or not.

"Al!" Canada shouted once more, it going to deaf ears. He had no desire to hurt his sibling but he was intent to be freed. Thus, with his free arm he pushed America forward, hoping it would be enough to trip the nation. If he was on the verge of falling in initial reaction would be to catch himself, needing to release the others first.

As the Canadian wished, the push was enough for the American to lose his footing. However, it failed in several ways. Not only did the American fail to fall but as he fought for balance, his swinging arm caused the Brit to crash into the previous wall with a grunt. Worse of all, it caused the American to finally snap.

America's breathing became harsher, shallow, and quicker than ever. His eyes bounced as his mind flipped with thoughts and feeling clouding everything from within. His jaw line tightened, needing nothing but the grinding of his teeth to demonstrate the level of ferocity he had reached. In a blaze America swung his arm back around, England was again lugged like a rag doll until he was let go to topple to the ground. The American's focus was now solely on the wavy blonde still being held.

With relentless tugs and pulls, the North Americans fiercely fought for control. They tossed each other left and right, one pulling one way as the other pull in the opposite direction. Canada knew he couldn't win a fight where pure strength was being used. He didn't have the brute power his brother did so, he attempted to foot swipe him. Canada tried several times, kicking his legs. Yet, America always managed to move around and dodge the try.

America stepped forward, not giving Canada enough room to really move, and grabbed hold of a good chunk of the Canadian's shirt. With a tight grip, it with no doubt stretching the fabric he pulled with all his might, causing them to almost fall over several times. As they continued to struggle along with the steps they took they neared the closet, too close to the Canadian's comfort. Feeling as it was the only thing left to do; Canada grabbed a handful of cloth as well.

"Alfred, just let me go!" Canada yelled shaking the stubborn American, barely missing the edge of the door way. "Just let it go!" It was difficult to move now as they clung to each other like pretzels. Yet, he used the momentum to turn themselves around, America's back violently hitting the wall like before.

"No!" America snarled. "You just let go and listen to me!" He returned the shaking with all of the pent up rage he had been storing within him for so long. The Canadian's head bounced around to all sides, worse than while speeding on a motor or riding a carnival ride. The forceful shaking was causing the Canadian to get nauseated, his head beginning to lose focus. Added to this nausea, his wrist now ached, feeling almost as if it was covered in rug burns. But, through all that, he did not let go of the American's shirt.

Losing his senses further, America's vision fogged. "Let go!" He shouted finally letting go of the Canadian himself, only to bring the hand up. Creating a fist, he brought his arm back just before driving it straight to Canada's nose. The fist made direct contact, the impact causing him to let go as he flew back.

All was silent, all in disbelief. With his eyes wide, the maple lover brought his hand up to his face. He sniffed, his nose running. Pulling his hand away, he peered down, it was now cover with a red liquid. He was confused. Not with the liquid itself, that, he knew plenty about, all nations did. The situation was just becoming too much.

America wanted to say something, but didn't know what or how. So, he decided not to. He moved his sights away from his brother who still examined the blood on his hands with such perplexity. His blue orbs roamed as they eventually found the temporarily forgotten England that sat on the floor he had landed on. 'This is it.' America thought to himself. In a split second as the nations remained distracted, America ran forward, not giving either a sufficient time to react. He stretched his arm, snatching England from his shirt's collar and yanked him up off the ground, throwing him in the closet.

England ruthlessly crashed into the shelf America managed to store. The hit's impact caused clothes, cans, and bottle of water to fall around him but, England didn't hesitate to stand up straight. Ignoring the pain on his side he rushed to get out of the room. Canada also momentarily forgetting about his own injury dashed towards the Brit.

"Don't move!" America shouted. The two running nations stopping instantly once they quickly realized that they had no other choice but to comply with his orders.

England remained inside, only needing one more step for his escape. Closing his eyes, he sighed sadly. It was the second time in such a short period that the person he loved pointed a gun at him. It seemed to have come out of nowhere. One second America's hands where empty, the next he was pointing the handgun in the Brit's direction. England shook his head, he was sure it must have been the gun America kept in his pocket. Glancing around the storage room, he couldn't help but to wonder how many could be hidden in there alone.

"Get in." America said facing the Canadian, jerking his head in the direction of the closet, the place where the European stood and the gun pointed. Canada contemplated what to do, whether to fight or follow the order. Exhaling deeply through his nose, he chose the latter, his brows scrunching as he walked to the other hostage.

Following in right after, America slammed the door shut and securely locked it. "I changed the lock to the inside." He clarified. "Come on." He said, slipping the pistol back into his pant pocket. "Sit down. We'll be here for a while." He gave a sorrowful, eerie smile.

The captured nations glanced at each other quickly at the change of America's voice. It was no longer dripping with an uncontrollable sense of fury. It was calm and almost peaceful, and that's what scared them the most.

With a frown still covering his face despite the change in his voice, America turned on a small battery radio. The sounds of an anchor man relaying the news vibrating out of its speakers. "Come on, sit down." He repeated when noticing that both nations remained standing. As they wanted to at least finish this peacefully, the nations went along and found their seats.

It was a nice sized closet. It allowed for them to sit without being too cramped, choosing to sit across from each other. The only thing that could possibly get in the way was how the ceiling inclined due to it being under the staircase, but that was the least of their worries.

As they slowly grew used to their surroundings England closed his eyes. He wasn't certain about what to expect when he came over to the American's home. He knew he would be panicked. How couldn't he be? Russia showing any signs of being close to him was one of his biggest fears. The satellite terrified him and England knew how the American could be when he was this scared but, he could safely say that he was not expecting this. Lost within his thoughts, England's eyes snapped open when he felt a weight upon him.

America, curled in a near fetal position rested his head on England's lap. He gripped some of the fabric of the Brit's pants as he buried his face within it. "Arthur…" He whispered, England replying with a quiet hum. "Tell me it's going to be okay."

Biting his lower lip, England looked up at the off-white ceiling, counting the few paint chips that threatened to fall off. Feeling the grip on his pants tighten and a sniffle come from the American's direction, he blew some air from his mouth. He looked across him, coming in contact with the purple eyes of his other former colony, the blood on his face now beginning to dry. Smiling a bittersweet smile, England ran his fingers through the American's slightly damped hair. "It's going to be okay."

* * *

><p>"Why must you be here?" England groaned, his hand rubbing his forehead as he rested his elbow on his chair's arm. "I've told you plenty of times that I only like to speak with you….well, never." England finished looking to face the smirking Frenchman sitting in front of him from across the table.<p>

"Ho ho…Arthur." France said releasing the pompous, irritating laugh he knew England hated. "We all know you're really dying of loneliness without me." He winked and blew the Brit a kiss. England happily rejected it with a scowl and a wave of the hand, hoping it was enough to knock the imaginary kiss off course.

"Hardly." Said the island nation, his face was certainly saying much more as he sighed. "Why are you really here?" England enquired. It was not that the Frenchman did not stop by to visit unannounced and unwanted; he did that all the time. No, it was the look of hesitation in his eyes that gave it away. France was not one to stop himself so; it was a wonder what he wanted to say. But, England had a slight idea about what it may be.

"What?" France asked with a false surprise. "Can't I just come pay a visit to one of my oldest and dearest friends?" He smiled, England scoffed. "I just know you've been back from your trip to _Amérique's_ for a while now and I wanted to welcome you back." He continued, examining his neatly manicured nails.

The Brit cocked a brow, lifting his head from the hand it was resting on. It was just as he had expected. "Oh?" he said, the Frenchman glancing away from his cuticles and onto the greens glancing back at him with boredom. "Did you, now?"

France's smiled widened. "Of course." The Brit clicked his tongue at the act of innocence. He knew the Frenchmen much too well to believe in that. "So…" France said dragging out the word as he twirled his hand in the air. "How did it go?"

The Englishmen rolled his eyes, lids half closed. "Just splendid." He said jokingly, receiving a surprising sympathetic smile.

"That bad, _mon cher_?" England frowned and opened his mouth, ready to protest but nothing was ever able to find its way out. "Did he completely lose it?" The Brit released a low growl as he returned his head to support of the palm of his hand. He looked away towards the far corner of the room, knowing and feeling the Frenchman eyeing him, waiting for a response.

"It—" He sighed. "It wasn't that he completely lost it." He sat up once more, facing the long haired man's curious face. He scrunched his forehead as he thought back to that night, his arms lying straight on the chair's rest. "He was just so lost. And, yes. There's a difference." He replied, anticipating the next question. "He was so panicked, simply terrified." He bit his bottom lip, his orbs distant in the flashback of the event. "I've never seen him like that before."

"Did he hurt you?" England's brow twitched.

"No." The Brit answered straight faced, receiving one in return. "Not really." At this, France lifted a brow. He wasn't sure about how he felt about the full response. It was short and indecisive and the look on England's face was quite perplexing. He was clearly going over everything that went on that day. France could have continued to push on to receive a more detailed answer but for once he decided to say nothing of it.

"What did he say after he found out it wasn't a spy satellite?" He asked instead.

England's lip curled up just slightly to one side. He wouldn't dare to attempt it but, he was glad that France was able to sense that he was not in the mood. The topic itself was giving him an unsettling feeling in his chest, a light burning sensation. He did stand by his answer, however. Yes, his wrist hurt once more and his knee had burned for several hours yet, considering the potential outcome…he thought he came out of it rather well.

"Well, you know Alfred." England shrugged, surprised that the different subject did not change the odd feeling within him. "He just said that he had to try harder to get to space because 'there's no way I'm letting a commie beat me up there.'" England smiled at the memory, despite the growing blaze.

"Ha, yes." France laughed at the thought. "Such a one track mind, that boy, _non_?"

"Yes…" England practically gasped out as he gripped tightly to his chair's arms, his nails digging small imprints into the wood. His throat felt inflamed and his eyes glazed as he held back every urge to release a violent cough.

"Are you alright?" France asked sitting up in concern, leaning forward and placed a hand on the desk. He squint his eyes as he examined the Brit's face that in a matter of seconds went from a natural hue to pale white and finally to a pink blemish. "Arthur, you don't look very we—"

"I'm fine." England puffed alongside a deep inhale. "Really." He assured his companion with his greens in a scattered frantic, his lids blinking frequently, and his nose in taking air as fast as it could. "I just need…" He began removing his clawing fingers from the chair as he struggled to stand. "…need to rest." He took a shaky step, his hand on the wooden desk for support. "You're right." He took another step, this one much heavier than the last. "I'm not feeling my best." He managed to say just as his legs gave away.

England made every effort to catch himself to only miss the edge of the desk by a couple inches. Shutting his eyes, he braced for the impact he was sure to come soon. Yet, it didn't. Instead, his body flinched as he was caught in someone's arms. His eyes remained closed as he was being practically dragged across the room. He would have made in effort to open his lids but the scorching that surrounded them prevented it. He didn't need his vision to know where he was being led to. The scent of roses and bread was obviously taking him to his bedroom. The familiar creeks of his old house giving it away.

"You're burning up."

England moaned as he was lowered down into his bed. He released a deep exhale from his nose, happy to feel the cool pillow upon his feverish face. He hissed through his teeth as he attempted to adjust himself. His whole body ached, his chest stung like a thousand needles striking him with heated tips, branding him like cattle.

England managed to open his eyes, catching France's worried blues hiding behind his long bangs. He had the palm of his hand on the Brit's forehead, cooling it slightly with the light touch. It only lingered for a short couple of seconds until the Frenchman rapidly removed his hand, examining his palm. "Arthur, you really do feel like you're burning up." France said with a surprising lack of innuendos.

England grunted in pain as he fought to support himself on his elbows. "That's because I am." He huffed before laying back down, unable to sustain himself for very long. "It feels like I'm burning from the inside out." England winced when he moved his arm to wipe the sweat off his drenched face and began to count in his head. After years of war and wounds he figured out different ways to calm himself. It just so happened that counting fairies was his method of choice.

As the aches continued, England did manage to steady his breathing. "I need to find out what's happe—Ahh! What the bloody hell are you doing?" England snarled, his mouth clenching shut as he held in another yell. He would have leaped out of the comfort of his bed to chase the Frenchman if he could, if every little move did not feel as if he was tearing his torso apart. "I could be on my blasted death bed and you'd still find a way to molest me."

"Oh, _mon cher_…only if you want me to." France winked, though it was missing the playful flash it usually had. England couldn't help but feel uncomfortable; France just did that to him sometimes. Yet, he knew that the perverted Frenchman was for once being genuine as he undid the buttons of his shirt. "Ar—Arthur, it doesn't look good."

England smiled at him bitterly. "I know." He had no need to see the scorch marks that littered his pale colored skin. He could feel them just fine. He could feel the heat and the sting as they pierced through him, growing and radiating. Shutting his eyes, England continued his count where he previously left off. He pushed the throbbing to the back of his mind, focusing only on the imagines of magical creatures. He managed to numb the pain as his surroundings drowned. He thought he heard France saying something about patching him up, thought he heard footsteps leave the room, thought he was being left alone. It was becoming increasingly difficult to determine the truth as even his mind turned dark.

/

"Arthur!" France lifted a brow at the shouts coming from somewhere else in the house. Closing his book and setting it down on the small antique nightstand, France gingerly placed his hands on top of his crossed legs. He waited patiently, a smirk covering his face as he heard loud and irritating footsteps reach the door way.

"Arthur!" The tall American called out once poking his head into the room. He immediately winced when he noticed the Brit's sleeping form. Opening the door just enough to fit, America tiptoed inside. It took everything he had to keep quiet, not wanting to wake the wounded nation. Making his way to the bedside, he frowned profusely at the sight he saw.

Despite England catching his rest he did not appear peaceful. His brows narrowed, creating lines. His forehead with those creases was still drenched in a layer of sweat and his breath still jagged. As America continued to examine the Englishman, he tilted his head when seeing England's open shirt, his chest completely wrapped with gauze.

Reaching the bedside, a slight movement caught the American's eyes. Finally, lifting his head, he was surprised to see the amused Frenchman glancing back at him. "What are you doing here?" America asked non-too polite.

"The same reason you are, I would imagine." France's eyes shifted to the nation lying down in between them.

"Yeah, well…" The young nation stuffed his hands into his pocket, not knowing what else to do with them. "I'm here so you can leave now." He frowned.

"Oh, really, _Amérique_?" France leaned forward on his chair, his chin resting on the palm of his hands. "So petty?" He smirked at the American's curled lip.

Balling his hand into fists within his pockets, America glared at the Frenchman across from him. This was the first time since the previous year that they spoken to each other. He knew they had to mend their broken relationship eventually, it being rocky since the canal situation but, America hadn't been able to find the will.

America wanted him gone, didn't want to deal with him now. But, he couldn't throw him out. It was neither his house nor decision and deep down, he knew he was grateful. He knew the Frenchman had been there to help patch England up. "Tch, Whatever." He finally said, slouching down to get a better look at the Brit's wounds.

"Are you really not going to let it go, _Amérique_?" America ignored the question, deciding to instead place all of his attention to England's hand, lifting it up in his own. God, how he hated to see him like this, it shouldn't be allowed. "It's really not healthy." The younger man still tried to clear his mind as he began drawing circles onto the extremely hot hand. Yet, he couldn't stop from being distraught. The Frenchman's taunting making him miss the subtle movement's the Englishman was beginning to make.

"You do realize that sweet Arthur was doing the same despicable thing, correct?" America's eye twitched. "Well, I suppose if I want to get forgiven…" France continued, looking the American straight on without a glaze in return. "I just have to sleep with you too."

"Listen, you son of a bitch!" America barked, letting go of the Brit's hands as he shot up, looking as he was ready to pounce across the bed.

"Can you honestly tell me that didn't have some grain of truth?" France interrupted, rapidly getting to his feet himself.

America balled his fist and shook his head slowly and precise. "It's not like I abandoned you!" He said before pointing a finger at the form on the bed. "And don't talk about him like he's—"

France smirked at him, crossing his arms. "Like he's what?"

"Just shut it." Groaned an unexpected yet, familiar voice, startling the feuding nations. Frowning at each other, this time in confusion the two nations shifted their sights down towards the Brit. Tired green eyes with a ring of darkness stared up at them not amused. "Stop taunting him." England said turning to face the Frenchmen, receiving a slightly lifted lip. "And—" he paused to catch his breath as he turned to face the American. "He's just trying to get to you."America glared at France from under his lashes before moving his attention back to the newly awoken England.

"How do feel? Are you okay? Do you need anything?" America asked in a speedy voice, taking on the role of mother hen just this once.

"I'm fine, Alfred." England grabbed a handful of the sheets with one hand, his other holding on to his stomach as he sat up. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, England attempted to control the shakes and quivers his body made against his will.

"You don't look fine." America said, noticing how the Brit seemed to be examining himself, occasionally wincing when touching a sore spot on his chest.

"I am." The hurt European said breathlessly.

America shook his head unconvinced. "Come on, do you at least want some water?"

"I'm fine!" England yelled, immediately feeling guilty when glancing up at the concerned and confused expression on the American's face. "Really, Alfred. I'm alright." He waved his hand, the pain clearly showing on his features regardless of how he tried to suppress it. "You don't have to worry about it."

"But…"

"He's worried you'll back out on him." France's voice drove through the temporary silence. He smiled cheekily to himself, feeling two pairs of eyes on his for a split second as he pretended to remove the nonexistent dirt under his nails.

"What?" A perplexed America asked, hoping for an answer that didn't come. "Arthur?" he said louder when the Brit refused to meet his eyes, instead choosing to stare at the hand he began flexing.

"I-" The Brit started only to stop right away and simply shrugged. England cursed himself as well as the blasted frog he had to remember to hurt when he felt the bed dip down at some added weight.

"Arthur?" America called again more softly. Knowing that the Brit would most likely refuse to look his way, he grabbed a hold of his chin, forcing him to turn.

Removing his head from the grip, England glowered briefly. The frown however subsided with a sigh. "I…" he struggled while the American became more concerned. "I'm fine." A whisper ultimately left the Brit's mouth.

"You're not fine, Arthur!" America raised his voice at the older man. "You're hurt. I can't see it but you're completely covered in bandages so, that can't be good." He sent a quick glance towards the Frenchman, knowing he was the only one to have seen the marks, "And you're so hot…you're like…radiating."

"And that's precisely the problem." England said bringing a hand slowly to his face, feeling the wraps a couple of fingers also contained. America opened his mouth, finding what to say when he was stopped when the Brit continued. "My bomb wasn't as big as it should have been and now my plant's clearly on fire." His voice increased in volume until his throat couldn't take the scorched feeling. It was practically shouting for that glass of water he was offered before. "The pact is still up in the air and we don't have time to catch up—don't have a way how." His voice creaked.

"Artie…" America whispered as he turned away to sit properly with his legs firmly planted on the ground. "I can't just leave you." He reached behind himself, catching the Brit's hand into his own. "I'd fight forever if my boss even thought of it." He tilted his head back, just enough to catch England's glaze. "You've seen me at my worst…and that was just like 2 weeks ago…"

"Six days." England corrected with a tiny curled up lip.

"Yeah…" The American replied, looking down in embarrassment. As a silence entered the room, America bit the inside of his cheek as he traced England's nails with his finger. "Just get better." He whispered.

"Ah, _l'amour."_

"Oh, shut up!" The English speaking nations said in unison, turning sharply to face the Frenchman with very irritated expressions. France only smiled greater.

Stepping forward, France took England's head and promptly brought it to his being. Ignoring the Englishmen's protest and cries of pain from being moved so speedily, he began to swiftly run his finger through the short hair. "Oh, Arthur, my pet. How it pains me to see you like this." He said with his ears deaf to the complaining. "At least now you have one less burden to bear."

"I wish I could lose another." The Brit said finally managing to escape his prison of arms. Gasping for the air he lost in the struggle, England wiped his damped forehead. "Blasted frog." He said mostly to himself but made sure it was loud enough to be heard by everyone.

America smiled bitterly as he flipped around to once again face the other two nations. England might now be conscious but was obviously still in pain. His harsh breaths and the hand on his chest were the best indicators. America cringed at the thought of having to replace the bandages, not wanting to think about what it look liked underneath.

As the tension in the room began to nearly disappear, a silence was again finding its way in. Fortunately, the quiet sound was not dreaded. The three nations stood or sat with no words, the nothingness being something of comfort. England greatly enjoyed the lack of shrills from his fellow nations. He liked it so much that he decided it was time for another rest despite his desire to stay alert. As he placed his hands on the bed behind himself for support, the stillness was disrupted.

"I'm I interrupting anything?" A voice said from the door. It was a low and hushed but the foreign sound still echoed through the silence, catching everyone's attention. Feeling instantly self conscious with all eyes on him, the Canadian waved nervously as he put his bear down on the ground. He stood patiently at the entrance, waiting for an answer. Instead, he only received confused stares. Sighing when none of the other blonde nations uttered a word, Canada took the liberty to invite himself in.

"How are you feeling?" Canada asked the Brit when reaching the foot of the bed.

England returned to his fully seated position and tilted his head with a lifted brow. After a couple of seconds a smile graced the Brit's lips, causing the maple lover to smile in return. "Matthew. It's good to see you." Canada fidgeted closer, coming to stand next to his fellow North American. "I..." England sighed. "I'm a mess." He answered truthfully.

"I'm sure you'll be able to fix everything soon." Canada said gingerly just before completely distorting his peaceful face when he turned to his brother. "You left me at baggage." He said; his voice saturated with sass.

His eyes widening, America coughed in his fist, scratched his brow, and snuck a quick peek around the room. "Um, yeah…I…sorry." He said looking up at the Canadian, guilt and confusion written on his face.

"It's okay….you were in a rush."

"Ah, yeah…" America agreed, his eyes still wide as he shrugged at the Brit who rolled his eyes.

"I think you should rest." The maple lover said out of the blue. England wanted to protest yet, he could not find an adequate argument. He knew that even if he did go down to the site the officials would not let him enter. He also felt the shot of adrenaline in him slowly starting to drain as his head became lightheaded once more.

"I suppose you're right." England agreed after some consideration. Treading back into the mattress, he suppressed every groan that threatened to be released. It resulted in a solemn expression.

"Do you need anything?" The quiet nation asked calmly.

This was when England realized that yes, he was indeed in need of some water, lots and lots of water. "Ah, yes. If you don't mind, could you please grab me a drink?"

"Sure." Canada nodded with a smile making his way to the exit. "Only if we could all get along and spread peace." He said stopping his steps, leaving him just a few feet from the door. "Just like my citizen that received a Noble Peace Prize, or how my peacekeepers and I went to Egypt to mend the whole Suez Canal fiasco." He glanced down at his white polar bear on the ground, thinking about all the good his citizens were doing during these times. Sighing contently, he looked back up.

The smile on the Canadian's face was quickly removed and replaced with a nervous grin. Unimpressed frowns and three pairs of eyes stared him down intently. "Did you just come here to brag?" America asked lowly and bored.

"No…" His brother said with a small cough and a smack of the lips. "I'll…I'll just go get that water now." He pointed awkwardly at the door.

"You do that." America replied, Canada nodding as he made his way out.

* * *

><p>"Don't you think you're enjoying this a little bit too much?" Canada asked as he looked over concernedly at the happy Brit.<p>

"Oh, not at all." England interlocked his still bandaged fingers over the knees of his crossed legs and grinned grandly, a rare sight indeed. The blonde nations were sitting beside each other on a wooden bench thoroughly enjoying their own personal entertainment, England obviously having a better time. "I love it when they're together. It's always so uncomfortable."

Canada was still not convinced that England's level of enthusiasm was normal, but he did turn to observe his reasons for glee. Standing a good amount away was his brother and the small Asian nation everyone knew well, Japan. They were close enough to be easily seen but far enough to where their watchers had to strain to hear. Not that it bothered England in the slightest. It wasn't too hard to depict the amount of nerves and hesitation anyhow.

"So, um…it's nice to have you here again." America said, nervously rubbing the back of his head.

"Ah, yes. Th—Thank you for having me, America-san." Japan bowed just slightly. Confused about what to do, America jerked his head from side to side hoping for some sort of sign. When no magical message from the heavens came, he turned back to the eastern nation and bowed as well.

"It's no problem." The American waved off. As the two nations struggled with their next words, an unwanted staring contest ensued until America coughed into his closed fist. "So…" he rocked on his heels. "It's good to see that your arm is better." he finally said with a crocked smile.

Japan released a few gurgled syllables; his hand shooting up to faintly rub is opposite arm. "Thank you." He finally released, feeling highly awkward. "You say that every time…even though it's been twelve years." He said softly, immediately widening his eyes in panic when he realized just how impolite that was.

"Oh, right..." The westerner replied, never giving Japan a chance to apologize for his rudeness. Meanwhile, Canada raised a brow. He could have sworn he heard England giggle behind his hand. Oh, yes. The Brit was having just a little too much fun.

"Well, we're business partners now." America clapped. "That's new!"

"Yes, it is." Japan said excitedly with his first sincere smile of the day. "Ah, um…" he stuttered as he turned behind him. "Please?" he signaled for the American to follow him a short distance. "Here she is. She is the Crown." He said introducing America to a black colored sedan.

"Nice." America said as he kneeled down for a better look. Holding a hand out, he swiped over the shiny smooth surface, the metal feeling cool under his fingers. "She's a beauty." He beamed, looking up at the Asian.

"_Arigato…" _Japan replied shyly, tugging at the end of his dress shirt. "I do hope it does well."

Nodding, America stood back up while facing the Asian with the same grin as before. "Me too." He said as he gave Japan a friendly pat on the back, which still sent the Asian just a little forward. "Me too." He crossed his arms.

"Aw." Canada cooed as he continued to observe the pair from a distance. Realizing what he had done, he quickly covered his mouth. His efforts were of course futile as England had easily picked up on the sound.

"What was that?" said the Brit with a faint smirk.

"Still doesn't make it normal." Canada pouted as he leaned back into the bench, purposly turning away.

"Perhaps not." England agreed, joining the Canadian as he relaxed in his seat. Yet, he never removed his eyes off the business discussing nations. Japan giving details about the vehicle as America listened intently, nodding occasionally.

"But considering the process it took to get here…" England began as Canada turned back around to face the Brit, whose eyes remained locked onto the once former enemies. "It sure is a sight to see."

* * *

><p>AN:

On May 15, 1957, Britain tested its first hydrogen bomb, at Maiden Island. It was called Operation Grapple.

a. Despite the bomb being much smaller than they had anticipated and many believing that the hype was bigger than anything else, it was still considered a success. It marked the day that Britain officially became a nuclear superpower alongside the United States and the Soviet Union.

b. Witnesses have mentioned about how rushed and unprepared they were as the crew on deck used flimsy white suits, rubber gloves, old WWII gas masks and covered their eyes with their hands as the bomb was tested.

2. As Britain power in the world lowered they became despite to keep up. Winston Churchill was quoted in 1951 saying that the bomb was "the price we pay to sit at the top table."

3. On October 4, 1957 the Soviet Union launched Sputnik 1, the first artificial satellite to be put into Earth's orbit. It marked the start of the Space Age.

b. The satellite had caught the United States by surprise causing near hysteria know as the Sputnik Crisis. Though Sputnik was harmless, many were terrified about it being a spy satellite. They also feared that the Soviets could now launch nuclear warhead from intercontinental distances.

c. After the panic subsided, the Space Race when full force as the United States felt as they were made fools of, they believed they were the world leader in space technology.

4. "I already have to worry about my own people trying to kill each other." –America. On January 23, 1957, Ku Klux Klan members forced a black truck driver, Willie Edwards to jump off a bridge and into the Alabama River, drowning as a result.

b. Ku Klux Klan, also known as the abbreviated from KKK is an organization in the United States known for their extremist ideals such as white supremacy, white nationalism, and anti-immigration, historically advocating through terrorism.

5. On October 10, 1957, Great Britain experienced the worst nuclear accident in their history known as the Windscale Fire.

b. In order for Britain to join in a nuclear weapons treat with the US, it had to demonstrate that they could be technological equals. This resulted in the speedy construction of the Windscale facility where they produced plutonium for the atom bomb. Later, after the US began using Tritium, Britain decided to us Windscale to make their own because of their lack of any other facility. Windscale piles not being made for Tritium caused them to catch fire.

6. Canadian Secretary of State for External Affairs, Lester B Pearson was awarded the Nobell Peace Prize in 1957 for helping to resolve the Suez Crisis through the creation of the United Nations Emergent Force. It was the start of modern day peacekeeping missions.

b. First Canadian's peacekeepers arrived in Egypt after the Suez Crisis on January 1st.

7. On October 31, Toyota began exporting vehicles to the US, beginning with Toyota Crown and Toyota land Cruiser.


	6. 1958

A/N: Hello everyone, I'm so so so sorry about how long it took for me to update. I've been in a very wonky place in life right now. I recently totaled my car when some jerk hit me and ran, then I got laid off from work, so I've been slightly depressed is all. I'm trying to look on the bright side. I was able to get a new car and hopefully I can get a job I don't completely despise. So, enough about my life, everyone wants to get to the story!

I've noticed that Canada is popping up more than I originally thought. Not that I have a problem with that. Who doesn't love some Canada? Please Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"It's such a nice day out!" America exclaimed excitedly, more than should be allowed. "Not a cloud in the sky!" He said with his hands up in the air as he basked in the limited warmth the winter sun provided. "It should be perfect!"<p>

"Um…Al." Canada coughed into his red knitted gloves. "Shouldn't you wait to do this at night?" He asked as he watched his brother strutting through the snow, a telescope in hand. Star glazing seemed rather difficult to do at this hour. The only people who used telescopes during the daylight were stalkers and people with a leg casts trying to figure out if their neighbors were murders, so really, stalkers sounded about right.

"I am!" America replied, setting the telescope down with a gentle plop, the tips of the legs no longer visible under the layer of snow covering the once green grass.

"Can you stop yelling?" Canada whispered to himself, not having enough courage and ultimately having too much of a heart to say it aloud. America was being entirely too hyper and enthused for it being so early. They hadn't even had breakfast yet. Canada couldn't help but to smack his lips at the thought of a plate of hot pancakes saturated in maple goodness. However, no matter how much he wanted something to fill his empty stomach; he just couldn't bring himself to destroy the happiness his brother was currently having. There were far too many things taking it away from him right now and he was not going to be one of them.

"This should be good. What do you think?" His brother's voice bringing him back into reality, Canada shook his head not knowing at what exactly he was agreeing with.

"It's good." He nodded before frowning slightly as America returned to adjusting the telescope. Though he wasn't going to stop the American's fun he still really hoped it didn't take much longer.

"I thought you'd be able to see it with the naked eye." The maple lover asked, pushing the thought of the sweet concoctions out of his mind.

"You can." America said forwardly as he stood up straight. "Binoculars too. Actually…" he dragged out, rubbing the back of his head. "Should be kind of hard to keep up with the scope but, I want to try to see it as close as possible. Oh man, I can't wait!" America shouted with a large grin as he balled his hands into fists from the excitement.

"I wish Arthur was here." America continued much more softly, looking up at the sky, a hand raised up to his face to cover against the sun.

Canada smiled lightly at his brother's words, before it all too quickly shifted to a smirk. "Can't he just see it from home?"

"Yeah, but it's not the same." America answered still looking over at the cloudless blue skies.

"Aw, did you want to have a romantic evening under the stars." Canada teased, America's cheeks reddening up from more than just the sun's heat. "I'll keep you company. I really do want to watch the satellite, it'll be nice, but I'm not going to hold your hand or anything." Canada continued, his smirk never leaving his face at his brother's obvious discomfort.

"Shut up, Mattie!" America yelled in irritation. All it really did was cause the other to grin that much more widely. America groaned silently. It didn't matter how long he and England were together and how many people knew about it. At the end of the day, it was always embarrassing to get teased by your brother. It didn't help that the Canadian had been there for some of their best and worst moments. It was nearly impossible to deny things with him. "I just can't gloat about my amazingness with us so far apart." He said, not completely lying.

He really wanted to show off to the British nation. He wanted to show him how he could be just as good as the red bastard, wanted to show that he wasn't going to back down, that he could get over the scare of last year and that he would fight through it. He wanted to prove that he had a way to get better. If that way was to beat the Red to the heavens then so be it.

"What?" America asked agitated at the look of—sympathy—on his brother's face. He guessed at the emotion. What with the Canadian's mouth turning tiny and his eyes soft as he leaned his head slightly to the right. Whether that assumption was fully accurate or not, he didn't like it.

"That's cute."Canada replied, his small mouth turning double its size when America frowned. Canada snickered when the American simply shoved his hands into his pockets. To keep them warm, of course and he wasn't pouting at all.

As he watched his brother turn his back to him and face the sky again, his hands still unmoving, Canada's eyes once again softened. "You're getting better." He said abruptly.

"Hm?" America responded, twisting his torso to face the Canadian once more.

"You're doing a lot better." He repeated. "You haven't really…you know…" he stuttered, rolling his wrist in front of him. It looked like a bad attempt at a pageant wave as he in some way hoped the motion would help him find the words. "Haven't…"

"Lost my mind?" America interjected casually.

"That's not what I was going to say." Canada shook his head seemingly upset at choice of words that were chosen.

"But that's what you were thinking." America said interrupting any other defense the wavy blonde was going to give. "Its okay, Mattie." Canada frowned. "It's okay." He repeated sending him a slanted smile. "I know I haven't really been the spokesperson for sanity." He laughed, only causing Canada to look more forlorn.

"But you really have been getting better, Alfred." Canada replied, taking a step forward. "You're not all there yet. I've seen the way you still cover your windows, some mirrors even." At this, America turned away, tilting his head when the sight of a small polar bear chewing on the weeds that were too stubborn to die caught his eyes. "But you're not as…um…frightening?" Canada continued, again gaining his brother's attention. "You did punch me and hide guns." He paused, knowing full well that the American still did. He could clearly see the outline of the pistol in the man's pocket. He swallowed as he looked past his brother and to the still half-finished bomb shelter. "And then Eng—"Canada stopped himself, already seeing the hurt in his brother's eyes before he had a chance to finish the sentence.

"But, this race for space you're having…it's helping." Canada smiled at the grin he received back. "You're doing something productive anyways and really, Al. It's pretty damn impressive."

"Um, thanks Matt." America nodded slowly. "You done with the chick flick moment?" he said pointing his thumb towards the house. "Because it's cold out here so…I'm going to go make myself some hot chocolate." He walked, making his way towards the door. "Oh—"he stopped midway, "And can you get your little weed eater to start on that side next?" He finished, pointing off to the opposite side of the yard before continuing his way indoors. Canada's shoulders slumped as he huffed in the cold air, a small fog leaving his mouth.

/

"Should be any time now." America whispered, not knowing why he felt the need to. The night must have been too calm, too quiet for it to get interrupted. Nature was enough of a sound track. They sat in the American's backyard, the same place he had left his telescope as a marker. They sat next to each other in lawn chairs, there being no way that a blanket would stay dry underneath the layers of snow.

"Look!" Canada broke the near silence as he pointed up to the sky. "I think that's it." He smiled, quickly placing his binoculars in front of his eyes. America followed along and lunged forward to his telescope he set up that morning.

"Sweet." America exclaimed, trying his hardest to keep up with the shining flying object zipping through the sky. To the unaware it would appear like a moving star but to the American it was proof of the hard work that his citizens were doing. It made him proud.

"Wow." Canada said with a smile as he removed the binoculars from his eyes. "I have to say, just like before. I'm impressed."

"Aww…thanks, Mattie." America gushed with fake modesty as he grabbed his brother into a one armed sided hug. "Aren't you glad we're going to be safety space buddies?" America nudged his brother's ribs. "What with my awesome space knowledge?"

"Yeah, yeah…" Canada rolled his eyes at his brother's annoying bragging rights. Yet, he supposed if he was going to be in a combined organization with anybody it might as well be his brother. He was obviously well ahead in the space know-how and he was paranoid enough for both of them. So, he knows he can count on the American to keep their skies safe. Looking over to his companion, Canada couldn't hold back another roll of the eyes when his brother winked at him. Canada sighed, his brother was a hand full and quite annoying when he wanted to be, but it really was beautiful out.

* * *

><p>"Shit!" America yelled frantically into the phone as he paced around the small space. As much as the curled cored acting as a leash allowed.<p>

"Alfred, please." The British voice pleaded on the other line, the volume being too much for his ears to handle.

"Sorry." The American blurted out rapidly on impulse. "But all man…" he rubbed his face, exasperated. "Shit, geez…" America continued to mumble as he took a seat on the floor and leaned back into the kitchen cabinets, his knees up to his chest, and the cord now to its limit.

"Alfred, love." England's voice softened. "I need you to breathe." A silence came through the earpiece of England's phone. He stayed quiet, listening to the nothingness until a harsh ragged breath was released. America sounded close to hyperventilating, and that left the Brit with a rushed attempt at keeping him calm. "I know you're panicking but—"

"That's the second time in little more than a month." America interrupted. "A month." He repeated with a tired puff of rugged air as he hid his head in between his knees.

"I know." He heard from the other line.

"You shouldn't" He said in an almost whisper, as he again began to rub the side of his face.

"You told me." England replied, earning a smirk from the Frenchman at his kitchen table. Scrunching his brows, England turned away, his back now facing the other man in an attempt at privacy.

Despite his current predicament, America couldn't help but to smile against the headset. "Oh, yeah…"

The Brit's lips also lifted up slightly until the sound of steps behind him were heard. As he turned back his once tense shoulders loosened as he noticed that he was now alone. "At least the first time was a way to prevent anyone from getting hurt." He said, now able to keep his full attention to the man he had on the phone.

"Yeah, because the planes colliding isn't bad enough." America sighed, obviously still upset but no longer going through a full on panic attack. "And now it's lost somewhere in the ocean, probably forever. What if it goes off some day? Just spewing radiation everywhere. Do you know what that will be like?"

Yes." England replied simply.

America ran his fingers through his hair. His head hurt and panicking made him thirsty but, he didn't have the will power to get up. That took too much movement that he wasn't sure his legs could currently handle. "It destroyed a house." He said after a pregnant pause.

"Excuse me?" Asked the British voice.

"The bomb they accidently dropped yesterday." America groaned. "It destroyed a house."

"Was…was anyon—were there any casualties?" England cringed at his own question, as well as the rapid loud response he received.

"No, but it destroyed a house!" England frowned with a silent sigh. "It was so embarrassing." America moaned as if in pain. "And what if it happens again?" he asked finding the strength to stand up, turning to brace himself against the sink. "And what if this time it really does blow? I…I'd be basically nuking myself, Arthur!" The harsh exhales returned. Too lightheaded to hold up his head any further, he lowered it to the sink below. A fog quickly began spreading across as the warm breath collided with the cool surface of the metal.

"Alfred, listen to me, love." England pleaded as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "First of all, you need to breathe. Can you do that for me?" He asked in a placating voice, one that would be heard when speaking to a child.

America had heard it before, it had been quite a while since it was last directed at him but, he recognized it just fine. Releasing a long jagged exhale, America nodded despite not being seen. "Just focus on breathing right now." He heard in his ear. Again, he nodded. Stillness filled both of their ears as America concentrated on a spot on the wall, until his breathing settled to a rhythmic pace.

"Are you alright now?" America heard, his focus breaking, he nodded once more.

"Yeah, I'm good." He replied out loud, finally realizing that he could not be seen.

"Alfred, I know I've told you before and I know you're tired of hearing it." England paused, waiting for an interruption before being allowed to continue. When there wasn't one, he inhaled briefly. "You need to calm down." He heard a rumble on the other side, a groaning protest no doubt.

"Just think about it, Alfred. Doesn't it make sense?" England asked, receiving the answer he had been expecting, nothing. "If there wasn't so much panic going around, do you really think there would be so many careless mistakes?" He questioned, still being a victim of the silent treatment. "Alf—"

"Alright!" America at last responded. "I get it." He grunted as he again slid down to a sitting position, this time his legs stretched out in front of him. "I'm a basket case."

"Sometimes."

America smiled. "It's hard. Not panicking." America slumped further. "It's hard."

"I know." England said gently. "I've had my share of panic attacks."

"Really, you?" The younger nation asked in honest curiosity. He had a tough time imagining the strict older nation truly panicking. Even his breakdown from the previous year seemed more like a fit of rage.

"Yes, though quite rare due to my excellent ability to rationalize and keep a cool head." England scrunched his brows playfully at the loud, _"HA!"_ on the other end. "But I believe we all have them at some point or another." America quieted down at the change of England's tone. He shouldn't really under estimate the emotions of the older man; England had witnessed and experienced more in his thousands of years then America could ever imagine.

"Yeah…there's just so much to stress about." America practically whispered, confusing himself on whether that was just meant for himself or not.

"Are you going to be fine now?" England asked, not wanting to butt into the American's inner debate.

"I—yeah, I think so." America answered after some seconds of hesitation. "I'll be fine." He rubbed his eyes, the attack making him uncomfortably tired. "Arthur."

"Yes?"

"Thank you," America cleared his throat. "For everything." He said softly with a smile.

"Any time, love."

* * *

><p>"This is it." England presented in a nonchalant voice yet, the uncommon smile seeping through told another story. "I had them agree to let me use it alone for tonight." England continued as he climbed down each step, as he made his way to the center of the large auditorium like room.<p>

"This used to be a theatre, you know?" He said, rather than ask, happy to reveal any history. It clearly brought the Englishman pride. "It was destroyed during the war." He paused in his steps to turn a bittersweet smile towards the American. "Glad it was savaged enough to be made into this." He said, finally climbing onto a small stage type area in the front of everything.

"What is it, exactly?" America asked at last voicing his curiosity, his eyes thoroughly scanning his surroundings. His eyes roamed the many of chairs that filled the large empty room, wondering the number of people that would be able to pile in. He glanced up at the incredibly high ceiling, causing him to lose his footing just slightly. Catching himself on one of the padded seats, America blushed, happy to have been walking behind the Brit where he could have not been seen.

"Honestly, I thought you'd know right away." England's voice said cutting through the American's thoughts. "It's more your thing than mine." He continued, heading towards a podium that stood slightly to the right of the stage. "Just extend the blanket. I'll get this ready."

"Here?" America asked confused, removing a light tan blanket from under his arm after climbing up the stage himself.

"Yes, yes." England replied, waving him off. After a few clicks that echoed in the vast room, England turned away from what seemed like a control panel. "Ready?" he asked the American currently sitting down on the ground upon the blanket he had previously placed, his legs out in front of him.

"I guess." He shrugged.

Giving a prompt nod, the Brit turned back to the podium and with a few more clicks the lights were completely out, leaving the two nations alone in the dark. The only tiny glow that shined through was the one on the control panel England was staring at.

"Uh…Arthur…I don't get it." America's voice practically screamed louder than ever in the darkness, the elevating fear beginning to be heard in his echoing words. America couldn't just sit in the dark without squirming, the thought of something popping out terrorizing him. He tried closing his eyes but that didn't work. If fact, it made it worse and swiftly reopened them.

"Would you learn some patience?" England barked. "I forgot where the correct buttons are." He said mostly to himself. "Ah, there they are." He said joyfully and with a few last clacks onto the panel, the pitch black quickly became an array of shinning little lights.

All above and around them were billions of twinkling stars and constellations, enough to challenge the skies itself. The darkness still made it hard to see as they were still attempting to adjust their eyes, yet England could easily make out the way the American's eyes changed from terror to amusement.

"It's a planetarium." America exclaimed, a wide smile beginning to develop across his face.

"Yes." England replied, taking a seat to the American's right on the solid tan blanket he had laid out. "I thought you'd like this." England focused on the slight glare the American's glasses gave off.

"I do." He responded, stretching his arms above him before lying down, his hand under his head. "It's nice."

"I'm glad." England joined him on the floor, his hands neatly intertwined over his stomach. "This is the first in Britain." England smiled to himself. The sounds of joy eluding from his voice could be clearly heard be all those who wished to hear it.

"Really? That's great." The American's praise made the Brit glad that the lights were off, the dark masking the bashful hue he was gaining across this nose. "I guess it kinda makes up for you missing that time Matti and I were looking out for the Explorer satellite." England frowned. "It was a really nice night out too." America stretched one arm above his head, only to quickly return it back to its original spot.

"But its okay, you can make it next time." America continued, his eyes still locked on the sparkling lights above him. "We're launching the Explorer 3 in a few days. It's going to be sweet." He giggled as he wiggled a happy dance while lying down. "And aw man, then there's going to be NASA soon. I mean, it's not official yet so you didn't hear it from me but, I know Eisenhower is going to establish it. I've been to the meetings." He laughed again at his own attempt at a joke. "There's going to be so much coming up in the next few months and—

"Can't you just let me have tonight?" England asked, his voice echoing as he interrupted America's rants. To think, he had started out feeling good. That lasted shorter than he expected. It was silly to think otherwise. America's brows burrowed as he stopped talking, looking down at the Brit lying next to him. It was dark despite all the winkling lights, but he could see it. He could make out the slight frown that covered the previously content expression. He could see how the Brit stared up at the artificial stars, but was no longer really looking.

Internally kicking himself, America bit his bottom lip and scooted his whole body down until he was even with the Brit's head. "You do have tonight. All of it." He whispered, turning to his side to fully face the Brit.

"Oh, no I don't." England smiled bitter sweetly once turning his head to face the American. "I brought you here because I thought you'd enjoy it."

"I do." America responded, taking a quick peek at the stars.

"Hmm." England hummed as he turned back to face the man made skies, not wanting to face the pity within the American's eyes. "But that's alright, because you'll be taking me to a musical tomorrow." He smiled.

"I am?" America replied confused, yet grinning at England's change of emotions.

"Yes." England nodded. "Tomorrow will fully be mine."

"Even if I fall asleep?" America asked jokingly. Half jokingly, as the possibility of him dozing off during the theatrical performance was very quite high.

"Even better." England faced him. "I won't have to deal with your talking and asking me questions about what is going on." He smirked, scooting slightly closer to the body beside him.

"That works for me then." America said, blowing a stray hair out of England's face.

"As long as you don't snore and embarrass me. It's quite alright." England turned up his nose. "I'm looking forward to this. My Fair Lady is supposed to be a splendid musical. Also, Julie Andrews will be staring. A fair lady indeed." He smiled softly.

"Oooh, I sense another Artie crush coming on." America teased, prodding a finger into the Brit's stomach, only for it to be quickly swapped away. "I'm starting to get jealous again. Some beautiful English woman with a voice is going to sweep you off your feet." He laughed at England's roll of the eyes.

"Oh, bugger off." He blushed.

"At Least she sounds like a better match for you than Marilyn."

"Or you." England said, causing America to fill the empty space with the sounds of his laughter.

"Probably…" He finally managed to say in between his gasps for air. "I'll just keep it under opposites attract." He said through his last chuckles, sliding further down to rest his chin on England's shoulder.

"I think we're more alike than we believe." England replied, attempting to ignore the added weight to his left.

"Hmm…must not be in the looks." America snuggled closer, his nose rubbing in and against the Brit's neck. "Because I am adorable and…I guess you're okay."

"You prat." England practically squeaked when the feel of warm lips on his neck caught him by surprise.

"Hey, it's alright." England shivered, the breath of the words blowing upon his neck creating a tingling sensation. "I'm apparently really into it." Another press of lips landed at the base of his collar. "Or you, whatever." England's breath hitched as a tongue glided up to his ear.

"This is highly inappropriate." England muttered, now truly failing at ignoring all of the American's nibbling and other advances.

"Oh, I think we found something." America proclaimed, getting up to brace his hands on the ground, one on either side of England's head, his right leg now in between the Brit's below him. "Sometimes we both don't care about what exactly is appropriate." He grinned.

England cocked a brow as he released a snort. "Bloody idiot." He said as he raised a hand to the back of America's head, bringing it crashing down.

/

"It wasn't that bad." America called out to the Englishman walking behind him. They were both bundled up in their coast as they made their way to the car. The late March wind was blowing in the middle of the night, the only light being from the moon, real stars, and light posts.

England refused to respond aloud, instead resorting to clearing his throat and looking away. "Come on, it was romantic and under the stars." England promptly rolled his eyes. "Well, it couldn't have been as bad as that time in 45 in the back seat of the jeep. " England cringed. "Now, that was bad. That hurt."

England groaned as he rubbed his right temple. It was not exactly something he wanted to remember. Great, now it was beginning to mist. Thank you, English weather.

"But that doesn't count. We weren't technically "together" yet." America continued, air quotes and all.

"Oh my God, Alfred, just stop talking." England pleaded, not being able to take it much longer.

All the American could do was laugh. "Just going down memory lane, babe." He tossed a smirk back at the scowling man behind him. As he turned back around, to watch his step as he made it to the front of the shiny rental car, a small piece of paper on the windshield caught his eyes.

"What this?" America asked the Chevy Impala as if it had the ability to respond. Maybe someday it will, he always said.

"It worked!" The Brit exclaimed excitedly and unexpectedly, making his way to the car as well. He had not been that far behind, so only a few steps were needed for him to lean in and take a look at the small piece of paper in the American's hands. "That's good." He said to himself as he walked around the car and to the curb.

"What worked?" America asked, lifting the slip up. He squinted to read the small print. He didn't have a real need to squint his eyes. It was not too dark out with all the lights polluting the street yet, it had just become a habit of a glasses wearing blonde. "Is this a ticket?" he asked, turning the paper around to check the back. "This is a ticket. Why'd I get a ticket? You said I could park here." He interrogated the Brit who was currently bent down slighting taking a look at a device attached to the concrete ground.

"Oh, you can." England replied, standing up straight, glancing at the American with some sort of mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "It's just that your time ran out on the meter." He pointed at said device.

"There was a meter?" America asked bemused, glaring at the slip of paper in his hands.

"Yes. I put some money in there." The Brit defended. "But, I always wanted to see if it was truly enforced. It apparently is. That is very good to know." He finished, patting the meter affectionately.

"Wait, you didn't put enough money in there on purpose?" America asked shoving the paper into his coat pocket. He only received a shrug and a lopsided smile. "That's why you wanted me to drive so bad."

"Well, I wasn't going to get a ticket." England said, placing both of his hand on his chest. "That would be embarrassing."

"But…I….It….get in the car, Arthur." America scowled, lifting up the handle to the black colored automobile, slipping into the driver's seat, the slightly smirking Englishmen joining beside him.

* * *

><p>There it was again. That smell that had been clouding the English house for days. As America treaded through the hallway of the house, it was to no surprise when he found the owner of the odd smelling house sitting at the kitchen table. He appeared to be enjoying a traditional meal of fish and chips.<p>

Yes, for the past few days England had taken up the habit of eating fish. At first it didn't bother the American in the slightest. Contrary to popular belief, he was perfectly aware about his often obsession with burgers but, this fish frenzy had just gone too far.

England had been having fish several times a day of different varieties. Some dishes were boiled, while others grilled, or baked, and of course fried. All in all, the house stunk.

"Okay, I give up." England lifted his head from his plated lunch, the unexpected voice distracting him from his very important mission of eating everything off of the white plate.

"Excuse me?" He asked wiping his mouth with a nearby cloth napkin.

"Artie." America started slowly, taking a seat across the Brit. It all felt like in intervention. Hello, my name is Arthur Kirkland. I represent the United Kingdom and I'm addicted to fish. "What's with the fish?"

"Ah." England nodded, taking a pause as he took a swing of the ale beside him, the perspiration leaving a ring on the wooden table. "I'm taking a stand." He said wiping his mouth again.

America puckered his lips, lifted a brow and open and closed his mouth. Clearing his throat, he raised a hand and propped his chin on his palm. "Against the fish?" he asked tilting his head away from the support. "Because that's kind of cruel—and weird."

"What? No, not against the fish." England answered, lifting up his fork once more. America narrowed his eyes still confused. "Against…fisher…men…"

"Uh-huh…" The younger nation replied slowly, trying to take in and understand just exactly what was going on; because really all he could imagine was the Brit arguing with a small fish standing up, using its fins as legs.

"Yes, well—" England put down his fork; he was not going to get back to eating any time soon. "More specifically Iceland's fishermen."

"Yeah…"

"We are currently having a slight dispute, as you will, about fishing—territory rights." England turned away, no longer wanting to take in the American's odd stare.

"Seriously?"

"Perhaps."

"Okay…" America scratched his head, leaning back in his chair and placed both hands on the table. "Now, Arthur—I know you like having odd territory battles bu—"

"I must certainly do not."England rapidly turned back facing his accuser. His arms were crossed and his eyes bitter.

"Ya kinda do." America said with a slight Texas drawl finding its way out as he shifted his eyes away. Great, it was time for another intervention. Hello, my name is Arthur Kirkland. I represent the United Kingdom and I'm addicted to territory wars. I kind of have been doing this for a few thousand years. Habits are hard to break.

"I do not." England repeated stubbornly. "When have I ever had any sort of territory prob—do not answer that." England promptly interrupted himself, pointing a commanding finger to the American currently staring at him with narrowed eyes. They looked obviously not amused as his glasses slid; now sitting midway through his nose.

Coughing into his closed fist, America's eyes widened once more as he lifted the frames back up the bridge. "Yes, you don't have any weird territory problems, nothing like the Falkland Islands."

"Hey." England's shoulders slumped. "I bloody need the Falkland Islands."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." America defended, lifting his hands up in a sign of surrender. "I get it. You can never have too many sheep." He smirked.

The Brit couldn't help but to smile in return. "You pompous…." He shook his head and scratched lightly behind his ear. "I'll have you know that he started it." Was that truly too hard to believe? "My men were out fishing, minding their own business when Iceland attacked. Damn, bird squawking endlessly." England glowered. "Stop smiling." He commanded the younger nation, whose teeth were prominently taunting him. "They can't just expand like that." He mumbled, taking a swig of the bottle.

"So…" America began, his large grin morphing into a smaller smirk. That rant was just too entertaining. "They extended their fishing territory and you went anyways but, they started it first?"

England rolled his eyes to the side and let out an exasperated breath of air. "I didn't exactly…" he rubbed his left temple. "I—" He squirmed uncomfortably. "I—oh, shut up." He exclaimed, his frustrated expression not damping the American's leer one tiny bit. "You are fighting the most non-existent war there is." England proclaimed, this accusation swiftly removing the look of contentment from the American's face.

"It is not non-existent." The younger man argued back. He was not going to let someone diminish the importance of what he was fighting for, not after so many years.

"It isn't?" England asked, the oven timer letting off a light ding. "It's like watching you and Russia having a staring contest, waiting to see who will crack first." He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. "Or playing chess and getting all your pawns in place, an alliance there, a missile—here."

America didn't have a reply, couldn't think of something sufficient to say. He couldn't deny that it sometimes seemed like that to him as well. So, instead he stared, silent except for the butterfly wisps his lashed made as be blinked. "I'm just worried." England said after the pause.

America smiled at the Brit's confession. "You're changing the subject on purpose." He laughed. "You jerk."

"I am not." England defended, again sounding only mildly offended, until a few stray chuckles escaped despite himself. "I am worried, Alfred."

"I know." America nodded in acknowledgment, his laughter dying down. "Doesn't make you any less of a jerk." The large grin returning. "But, I still don't get the fish." He looked around the table at all the empty plates, the dinging going off again as a reminder. "I mean, I get the whole war and territory thing, but I still don't get the eating part."

"Well, you see." England leaned back. "I…" he paused. "I'm not entirely sure how it works either."

It takes America exactly two seconds to bust out in a fit of laughter. Well, when it came to reacting to events in ways you can't control, America could understand, though it didn't make it any less hilarious. Willing himself to stop after several minutes of England glaring at him, America wiped a tear that fell from his eye. "Sorry." He apologized, yet the smile never faded as another ding came ringing. "But, you better find out soon or the house is going to burn down."

England scrunched his forehead in confusion until he followed the American's trail of vision and took a deep breath in. Quickly facing the oven his eyes widened at the sight of the black smoke being admitted into the kitchen. "Bloody hell!" he shouted as he leaped up and off his chair on his mission to rescue the burning cod. America helped by watching and laughing softly.

* * *

><p>The air was thick and tense. It felt like a bubble of heat surrounded the four nations, entrapping them in a force field of uncomfortable boiling rage. Three were facing one. The faces of these three displaying an array of different emotions encased into one. It was a mixture of apprehension, anticipation, and trepidation. All similar emotions rolled together did not make them hard to read. They all said fear.<p>

The three hated it, hated that they were open to be seen, to be judged. What they hated most of all was the clear joy the one took in seeing these feelings that were being held out for display. The one had always been difficult to read, a poker face of delight rather than neutrality being his usual choice. There was ultimately no telling what lied beneath that smile.

"You have six months." He said, the grin never deteriorating, adding a new sentiment to the three, confusion.

"Six months for what?" The tallest and youngest of the three replied defensively. There was no way that he was going to simply take an idle threat. His heroic tendencies prevented that.

"Oh, such hostility." The one tsked, shaking his head at the brash response.

"Stop with the games, Russia." Said the man with the piercing green eyes. He would not be allowed to be toyed with. He had too much pride and too long of a history of being in control to let himself be made to surrender to manipulation.

"I do like games, da?" he laid a finger on top of his upper lip, considering the self giving question. "But this, this is not one." Russia shook his head and leaned back onto the heels of his feet, rocking slightly "No, I'm being quite serious." He nodded with a hum.

The three furrowed their brows, straightened their stance, and squared their shoulders. The Russian didn't seem like he was taking anything serious at all, now with the childish grin and hunched posture. Yet, they knew. Yes, they knew well enough. They've worked with the Russian long enough to take everything he said into account. The glimmer in his eyes could quickly shift cold, just like the reflection of the sun off an icicle ready to strike the poor unknowing sap down below. "You have six months." He reassured.

America tensed further, his hands forming into fists at his sides. Serious or not how can he not consider it a game? The soviet knew exactly what he was playing at, he always had. America attempted to settle himself down. He was learning to breathe as England had encouraged him to. They had been performing a few exercises since the day of his panic attack. He was now even counting numbers in is head when he noticed a hand on both of his wrist. Neither was tight nor gripping, simply placed as either a mechanism of comfort or of potential restraint.

He glanced down at the hands placed on him and cringed. They were really that worried, they were really that scared of what he could do? Not that he blame them, especially England. He had every right to be concerned after all that he had been through with him. As for the Frenchman on his other side, he had already witnessed how an argument with the Russian could escalate. America was also sure that the Brit had passed on some information of other happenings. They admittedly had a gossiping problem.

"Six months for what, Russia?" France asked this time around, taking the pressure off the other nations.

"To decide." Russia replied, seemingly proud of himself.

"To decide what?" the American said through gritted teeth. He was doing a decent job at stopping himself from speaking. The constant teasing eventually was being too much for him to hold his composure any longer. He still continued to praise himself at the self restraint he had been showing. Though he was not completely collected he was still displaying a considerable amount of control.

"To decide whether you want to stay or go." Russia proclaimed, leaning back, extending his arm backwards to grab and use one of the chairs everyone decided to forgo as support. "West Berlin." He clarified, tilting his head to the side, his ever taunting and patronizing grin still outshining every incandescent shade of light at glowed through-out the room.

The room went silent for a metaphorical millennia. The few ticks of the clocks boomed before someone else spoke once more. "No, why would we?" America shook his head frantically, readying himself to take a step forward when a grip tightened around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

"You would still be able to get in." Russia attempted to sweeten the deal. He received perplexed expressions. They could not believe his words without there being a catch attached. They couldn't dream of a world where Russia let them just roam freely.

"How?" England egged on for the true ultimatum. He was also beginning to fidget; getting tired of the play around the Russian was doing with them. He was avoiding the real answers to the real question they all desired.

"The process is quite easy." Russia said, again stalling to give a straight response. "After you leave and it all goes over to the East, you will be able to get in and out whenever you want." The three frowned, waiting for the rest of the statement. They knew it was coming, it always did, a catch. Not that they would easily agree with any provocation that handed to them, even without one. But, no, they knew that this was not one of them. "As long as the East agrees." And there it was, just what they all had been waiting for. They weren't surprised in the slightest; they had expecting just the same. America looked way with a puff of jagged air leaving his mouth. France ran his free hand through his wavy golden hair. England stood still, only clenching a fist on his side.

"You're crazy." America snarled, glaring at the taller man through one eye as he still faced away. As unpredictable as the Russian could be there was one thing that seldom faulted, his grin. The American's sneer morphed into a heavy frown at the sadistic stare.

Russia had never said anything when it came to the claims of insanity from his fellow nations. Surely, he wouldn't voice any approval or agreement but, he never denied it either. It was moments like this where many others would take a step back, fearful of what was to come. "You have six months." Russia again repeated the term.

"What makes you think we'd agree to that?" England voiced bewildered.

"Ah!" Russia looked down with a short giggle tickling his chest as he straightened out the scarf around his neck. "That's because you do not have a choice." He finished, his large and prominent smile crumbling to a face of neutrality, eye lids weighing heavy upon cloudy orbs underneath. Standing up straight from his formerly slouching form, he smoothed out his coat from any creases or winkles and looked up at the three. "You have six months." And with that and no other words, he turned around and began to walk away, only stopping once before reaching the door handle. Nudging his head slightly was all he needed to grab the attention of the white haired man leaning against the white colored wall.

Pushing himself off the support, the white haired man stole a glimpse of the three nations that had just noticed his presence in the room. Shrugging his right shoulder, he turned around and followed the Russian out.

/

Engulfed in the large plush sofa, his legs crossed, and leaning heavily upon the arm rest, England sighed. Drumming a light rhythm on his thigh, he looked over to the American on the couch near him.

The taller blonde was slouched over, his elbow resting on his knees and his hands entwined. He looked exhausted with clear dark bags underneath his eyes and his hair now a slight mess from the constant fingers that ran through it. Closing his tired eyes, he exhaled his own large sigh as his hands released their hold. He flexed his fingers numerous times before holding his palms against his still shut lids.

The Brit knew he was not looking his best either. His own locks were probably just has misbehaved and his crow's feet more prominent than usual. This is the very reason why he would be refusing any mirror or reflective object for the rest of the day.

England's concentration on the younger nation was disturbed as a gold trimmed tea cup was positioned in front of his face. Jumping slightly at the surprise, he blushed with embarrassment as he held his hands out for the warm beverage. "Thank you."

Replying with only a smile and a wink of the eye, France moved across the room and joined the American on the couch. He took a sip of his own tea in silence as he also watched the younger man. America had returned to his previous slouched position. "Are you sure you would not like some, Amérique?" France offered after already being denied once before. "It would help you to wind down." He continued shifting himself further into his seat to find comfort.

"No." The younger man replied, scrunching his nose at the thought. "I'm fine." He reassured as he sat up straight for the first time since he began resting. "Really, guys." His eyes shifted from one to the other. "Stop staring at me." He said causing the two older nations to jerk away as they caught themselves indeed gawking.

"Just making sure you are feeling alright." France smiled, giving the American an encouraging pat on the shoulder before getting back to the warm tea in his hands.

"Yeah, thanks." America sniffed as he removes the frames from his face and began wiping the lenses with the edge of his shirt. "But, I already said I was okay." He made a satisfactory hum as he looked down at the newly clear glass. They were now no longer clouded with a ton of tiny fingerprints.

Once America slipped his glasses back onto their rightful place he noticed England again watching him. They exchanged looks, communicating without words, silently voicing their worries and concerns. Brows creased and fingers numb. Giving one of his lop sided smiles, England was the first to break the session as he let out a sigh and returned his attention to the cup at hand. No longer finding the now lukewarm tea interesting, he leaned forward and gently placed the combination tea cup and saucer on the small coffee table in from of them. "What are we going to do?" England let out in a whisper of a voice.

"What do you mean what are we going to do?" America replied, snapping his head back towards the Englishman after following the ceramic pieces with his eyes. His question was said in a harsh tone and a volume drastically different than England's before him. "We're going to say no."

"Naturally." England replied, keeping his calm voice and demeanor. America immediately noticed his quick defensiveness, realizing that England was trying to remain in control as he should be. He deflated from his ready to pounce state and sat back into the plush cushions once more.

"That really goes without saying." France interjected as he followed the Brit's motions and placed his own tea on the coffee table. "What I believe Arthur is asking is how exactly we're going to go about doing it." England nodded in agreement.

"Oh." America paused briefly to lick his lips and rub his nose. "That's easy." He said simply.

"Oh?" France asked intrigued about what the younger man had planned. Interested about how something that seemed so difficult could be done easily. England also captivated by the American's confidence lifted a brow as he leaned in closer, his chin resting on the palm of his hand, this arm propped up upon the arm rest of his sofa.

"Yeah." America nodded, staring straight ahead, right at the door the Russian had just walked out of a couple hours ago. "We're going to do it together."

England blinked several times as he observed the younger nation. As he took it all in, America's stillness, his sincerity, his poise, England's perfectly controlled composure cracked. What had started as the tiniest lift of the lip gradually resulted in a fit of laughter. Attempts to stop his laughs failed, leaving him with no other choice but to hold on to his stomach. The effort and pressure he was putting on his body causing his abdomen to ache.

America, whose attention was still being held by the door, turned a confused look towards the sounds. "What?" The taller nation asked the Brit once he had finally managed to quiet down.

"Naturally." England replied with nothing else but a smile.

Feeling another heavy pat on this shoulder, America switched his point of view to the Frenchman sharing his seat. France nodded at him as he hid his own chuckles behind his free hand. No longer being able to help it, America shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair and broke down himself.

And that's exactly how they spent the rest of the day. With the thoughts of an appending threat clear in their minds, the three nations laughed together.

Naturally.

* * *

><p>AN:

1. On January 31, 1958, the first successful American satellite, Explorer 1 was launched. Later on March 26, the Explorer 3 was launched. Explorer 2 failed to reach orbit.

2. "The only people who used telescopes during the daylight were stalkers and people with a leg casts trying to figure out if their neighbors were murders, so really, stalkers sounded about right." This is a reference to the movie _Rear Window_, a 1954 American suspense film directed by Alfred Hitchcock.

3. On May 12, 1958 A formal North American Aerospace Defense Command agreement was signed between the US and Canada. It is a combined organization that provides aerospace warning, air sovereignty, and defense for the two. It is currently still in use.

4. The Tybee Island B-57 crash happened on February 5, 1958. The Tybee Bomb was a 7,600 pound (3,500 kg) hydrogen bomb that was lost in the waters off Tybee Island near Savannah, Georgia. During a practice exercise, a B-47 bomber carry the bomb collided with an F-86 fighter plane. In order to protect the aircrew from the possible detonation in the event of a crash the bomb let go. The bomb was considered lost and never after several unsuccessful searches.

5. On March 11, 1968 a U.S B-47 bomber accidently dropped an atom bomb Mars Bluff, South Carolina. The navigator of the bomber was summoned to the bomb bay area after a report of a fault light in the cockpit indicating that the bomb harness locking pin did not engage. While he reached around the bomb to pull himself up, he mistakenly grabbed the emergency release pin, dropping the bomb on the floor of the bomber. The weight of the bomb forced the bay doors open, sending the bomb down to the ground below. Luckily, the bomb did not contain a removable core of fissionable uranium and plutonium, causing no nuclear fission to occur. There was a mushroom cloud created as well as crater. It destroyed a home and leveled nearby trees.

6. March 21, 1958 was the opening date for the London Planetarium, the first planetarium in Britain.

7. The U.S Congress formally created the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) The agency of the U.S government that is responsible for the nation's civilian space program and aeronautics and aerospace research.

8. March 21, 1958 was always the opening day for the musical My Fair Lady, staring Rex Harrison and Julie Andrews in London's Drury Lane Theatre. It was previously a hit in 1956 during its Broadway production and later became a hit in London which led to a popular film version. Julie Andrews later moved on to do other famous musical films such as, Mary Poppins and The sound of Music.

9. The first parking meters in Britain were installed in 1958

10. The first Cod Wars between the British and Iceland lasted from September 1 to November 12, 1958. It began after new Icelandic law expanded the Icelandic fishery zone. The British declared that they would fish under protection from their warships in the areas. Eventually a settlement was agreed upon. The Cod War saw 37 Royal Navy ships and 7,000 sailors protecting the fishing fleet from 6 Iceland gunboats and their 100 Coast guard. He UK accepted the Icelandic annexation and Iceland agreed to take further claims to the International Court of Justice in Hague

11. The first U.S Thor Missiles are deployed in the UK in August.

12. In November 1958, The Soviet Union leader Khrushchev issued an ultimatum giving the Western powers six months to agree to withdraw from Berlin. At the end of that period, he declared that the Soviet Union would give complete control of all communions with West Berlin to the East Germany. He claimed that the western powers would have access to West Berlin but only by permission of the East German government.

13. I've been watching entirely too much Supernatural lately and it shows with my, Chick flick moment and Chevy Impala references. Just a little extra note there.


	7. 1959

A/N: I'm going to just…stand in the corner over here…and hope to not get yelled at. Yeah, I know. I suck. I took way too long to update this. I never stopped writing it was just coming out really slow. This chapter was hard to write and life was being itself. However, since my last chapter, I got a new car, Benny to replace my beloved Jack that I lost because of the accident, I got a new job that I don't hate, and I fulfilled one of my dreams of visiting the UK! As for the chapter, I hope you enjoy. It actually ended up being one of the longest, so that's good. Also, I just wanted to point out that I had a lot of help for this chapter from this book I found called '1959 The Year Everything Changed' The wonders of the library, right?! Well, I already made you wait long enough so, ENJOY!

* * *

><p>"Would you take it off?"<p>

"Take what off?" America squinted at the moving pictures on the television set, not even bothering to take a look at the man speaking to him. He never once noticed his guest standing there by his side for some time now, waiting for a reaction that never came.

"The blasted beret." England crossed his arms as he continued standing and looking down at the American slouching down on the couch, a bowl of chips in his lap. The seated nation's hands occasionally grabbed one of the crispy snacks causing a loud crunching to come out of his mouth.

"What? Why?" America asked, readjusting the head wear. "I'm an all natural shape in a drape."

The Brit lowered his shoulders, bowed his brows and tilted his head slightly to the right. "What?"

Finally breaking his focus away from the magical box, America turned his head and gave a lopsided smiled, none too innocent. "You wanna see the shape in action?" he winked. "Ow…"He exclaimed as the Brit snatched the hat off his head and happily gave him a good smack as a departure gift.

"You remind me too much of the frog with it on."

"You didn't have to hit me." America whined, his hand rubbing his head roughly. England scrunched his lips in irritation when the American examined his palm for any potential signs of blood. When he was finally satisfied that he was not squirting blood from a busted vein in his brain, he put his hand back down, signed, and returned back to the television.

"You're taking all of this rather well." The Brit acknowledged as he watched the younger nation remain calm and relaxed though out the night, too calm for his liking.

"Of course, I'm a cool cat." America said, earning himself a concerned look from the Brit still standing by the side of the couch. A nice brown couch the younger man had been exceedingly excited about getting, having just arrived a few weeks ago.

The concerned expression lasted only for a short few seconds as it soon became one of confusion and general annoyance. "Would you kindly speak English?" The older man asked just about having enough of the gibberish the American had been spewing from his mouth the last few days. He was used to America butchering his language with countless word changes, pronunciations, and slang. Yet, this time around he was having a difficult time just understanding anything the younger man was saying, as if he was speaking a completely different language all together.

"I am speaking English, American English." England rolled his eyes. "What did you think I was speaking?" The younger man finished with a smirk.

"I have no bloody clue." England responded nonchalantly monotone.

"Funny. I didn't know clues could be bloody." America replied, his smirk quickly widening. "Ow." He once again exclaimed as he returned his hand to his head after another blow.

"They are for murder scenes." England said, swerving around long legs to take a seat on the overly soft brown cushions.

"Was that a threat? And quit hitting me." America pouted from both the hit and the terrible attempt at a joke.

"Are you doing this as a way to make yourself feel better about it all?" England shifted in his seat to have a better look at the younger nation that promptly began ignoring him for the television once more. Well, if that didn't look like a clear avoidance of the situation.

"Though I am thrilled that you are not cowering under a table or—trying to kill me." America turned to him with a scowl. England smiled, knowing how to get a reaction out of the other nation. Granted, it wasn't exactly the nicest way of doing so. Sometimes tough love was the only way, he supposed. "But ignoring them isn't good either."

"You're an ass." The American said bluntly, looking up though his lashes.

"I try, dear." England's smile grew.

"I don't know why you're over reacting about me not over reacting." America started, ignoring the subtle words of '_That's what you do.'_ Instead, he went on talking calmly. "I have nothing to worry about, Arthur, really. Everything is fine, really. Quit worrying about me…really" England's eyes squinted as America continued on, his face bright with a pearly grin and illuminated blues, the amount of 'reallys' being an overwhelming concern.

"Just because we were just given an ultimatum by Russia, and one of his satellites is out floating away, and because Russia decided to just pop in tomorrow." America exhaled. "Oh right, and I think my brother is having a secret love affair with Cuba." He cringed.

"That's a disturbing thought." England shuddered slightly himself.

"You think?" America groaned, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses.

"Do you feel better now?" England asked, observing the clear blank expression on the taller man's face. America had snapped from being lively, despite his slight outburst of complaints, to being dead to the world, the living world. The make believe world inside the TV set could feel his presence perfectly as his eyes penetrated thorough the glass and pixels.

England signed internally. All day the American's attention had been on an unstable loop. One second he would be awake, enjoying an ever meaningless conversation to completely shutting himself off from consciousness the next. The television just helped to provide an easy mechanism and excuse for escape.

Not that the Brit could blame him. He was himself was involved in the ultimatum given not too long ago. They had been keeping a strong hold, all three of them, the Frenchman included. America's words though sounding naïve rang truth. They were going forward and keeping their ground by standing together. This didn't stop the American from staying on his toes and his hands shaky.

"Why don't you go to sleep, love?" England suggested, seeing the deep black bags that hung below the man's eyes. He was having trouble sleeping. That was a clear understatement. He hadn't had a good night's sleep since the beginning of this feud he was having with Russia. A good 14 years of tossing and turning, years of grabbing his pistol from his bedside at the slightest sound.

England could still remember the panic he felt one night when he awoke to find himself alone in the bedroom, the gun missing from the nightstand. The sight of the weapon always made him cringe but with it gone a sense of dread crept through every fiber of his body. Getting up from the warmed brought a shiver down his spine that he fought to ignore as he made his way to the darken hallway.

There was a deafening sound of nothingness that night as he guided himself by a hand pressed firmly upon the wall. The floor underneath him creaked with the weight of his steps as he made it to the living room. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness by that point which helped him make out the figure crouched down by the window. The American was frantic, stapling the black curtains to the wall to prevent any light from coming into the lonely house, running from one side of the house to the other insisting that he heard someone trying to break in, holding England's face demanding to know who had hurt him when there was no indication that anything had happened to him. England had spent half of that night trying to talk the American down until he finally agreed to at least sleep on the couch.

America tilted his head just enough to see the pale slender hand that had been placed on his shoulder, and frowned at the Brit who had zoned out for a moment himself. "Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked looking deeply in the pools of green and speckled hazels. They were pools that he could have sworn where getting darker.

"Because I was trying to be supportive you ungrateful over confident twat." England puffed, leaning back into the cushions of his seat.

America smiled as he saw the older nation sink deeper and deeper into the crevice of the couch. "Whoa, there." America laughed. England's bouts of anger were entertaining as ever. "That's more like it." He said putting his hands up in defense. England replied with an angry puff of air escaping his otherwise tight lipped mouth. "I'll be fine though, really."

"Quit saying that bloody word!"England said in a seemingly random flare-up. The general lack of concern in America's demeanor was slowly driving England to a breaking point. England was an expert of hidden emotions, there was no way the America would be able to pull that play on him. He knew all too well that the calm façade was just that.

"Alright, someone's a little uptight now." The America said, attempting to lighten the mood that seemed to have escalated rather quickly.

"Oh, spare me." England rolled his eyes. "It's that attitude of yours that's going to get you into further trouble."

"Please." America scoffed, setting aside his bowl of chips and stood from his seat. He didn't want this, none of it. He was not in the mood for it, not tonight. So, with a scowl on his face he walked away towards the kitchen door. "I hate when you start acting like my mother." He spat out.

"Excuse me?" England said spitefully as he sat up straight, his arms crossed as his nostrils flared, all while his disbelieving ears began to change into a light shade of pink. "I'm just trying to—

"Can't you just shut up every once and while?" America interrupted, stopping his steps, violently flipping around to face the Brit once more.

"Don't take that tone with me." England replied, his eyes narrowed and his shoulder tensed as he stood, his arms still crossed and his feet now planted firmly on the ground. He glared daggers at the American who scowled in return. "Not when I'm just trying to—

"I know!" America interrupted once more, England's face reddening by the second. "I know you're trying to help, okay?" America sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. "But frankly, babe." He said lowering his tone and adjusting his askew lenses. "You're really bad at it."

England deflated slightly as the Americans words. He wasn't going to deny that motion. Instead, he tossed the beret he had continued holding on to the sofa. He remained standing, both silent and avoiding any eye contact with each other. The Brit assumed anyways, as that what he was doing. He decided that staring at the hands of the grandfather clock as they moved slowly to be a better option. He had no desire to continue on with the argument but he was too stubborn and proud to fully stand down.

As the British nation was about to witness the large hand tick to its third number, the sound of speaking ripped him away from his concentration. "It is to make me feel better." England looked away from the clocks face to the younger nation who also remained standing in his identical spot. "I don't want to, you know…" he continued making an explosion gesture with his hands that he placed on either side of his head. "Russia knows his mind games." He finished, staring down at his feet that fidgeted lightly.

England glazed down at the American's jittery legs. As odd as it sounded, he was glad to see them bounce. It reminded him of when the American was younger and more naïve. It reminded him of when they twitched from excitement not anxiety. "He does." England agreed, licking his lower lip.

The Russian knew the best way to get America jumping nowadays was to launch some new fancy contraption into space and that was exactly what he was doing. He would get a shinny satellite flying and then announce he wanted to meet. Out of the blue, he decided to pay America a visit for what he called a diplomatic tour. Caught by complete surprise, America was trying his hardest to not only keep his cool but to plan how exactly he was going to handle the remainder of the week.

"So, I got us something to keep us relaxed." America said. His eyes were hopeful as he gave the Brit the tiniest of smiles, wishing that the previous conversation was at its end. He knew fights with the older nation could be a tad taxing, both usually to stubborn to give up.

"You didn't get me shoes again, did you?" England responded, happy to see America's shoulders loosen as the tension subsided.

Letting out a true laugh at the Englishman's playful comment, America shook his head. "No. Just wait." He said rushing into the kitchen, his goal from the very beginning. It didn't take long for him to return, the door swinging behind him.

"Should you really keep buying things?" England asked, cringing slightly to himself, wishing he didn't sound too much like America's "mother" with that question. The once great and powerful empire liked smothering his younglings. That wasn't anything new, being a mother hen just spilled out of his pores at times. He was glad when America simply shrugged, apparent that he decided to let the comment slide off his shoulders.

"Here." America said handing the Brit a long flat box once reaching his side.

Taking it curiously, England smiled upon closer inspection. "A record, what a surprise." He said happily amused at the gift choice. Though the American did have random burst of musical obsessions and they more often than not served as an inspiration, the blue suede shoes being a prime example, albums themselves have not usually been the gift of choice. "_Kind of Blue._" England read off the album cover before flipping it over and examining the opposite side.

"Yup." America smiled proudly. "It isn't even technically out yet." He said in a fake whisper, the kind of whisper where you speak just as loudly but placed a hand at the corner of your mouth as if it would help.

"Well, of course." England rolled his eyes at the younger nation's excitement. His enthusiasm over the perks of being a nation never seemed to wan with him. It was the charm of a not even being two hundred years old.

"It's supposed to be really good, one of his best."

"Well, by all means." Playing along, England handed the album back over to the American. Gladly accepting the black colored album, America made his way to his record player that sat neatly on the wooden counter. "Any plans for tomorrow." England asked as the other nation prepared the entertainment.

With such an uncharacteristic gentleness, America removed the record from its cardboard protection and placed it upon the player. Finally shrugging in response to the Brit's question he moved the player's arm over to sit upon the vinyl. "Just send him a box of cereal and hope he doesn't actually want to talk to me." He said as a jazzy tune began to fill the room. "That sounds like a good idea to me. Don't you think?" He asked, placing a hand on to the entertainment center and shifted his weight upon it. Looking over to the Brit, his smirk widened into a smile.

Crossing his arms and licking his lips, England's eyes shifted upward slightly as his let out a tiny sigh. Taking notes from the American in front of him, he decided to respond with a silent shrug of the shoulders.

* * *

><p>"Ah...sir?"<p>

America flinched, nearly dropping his cup of coffee onto the recently waxed wooden floors when he quickly removed his feet from the desk they were resting on. He hurriedly sat up straight on his black leather chair and adjusted his crooked tie. He was certainly working hard. He was just taking a short needed break from it all, he thought to himself as he cleared his throat and looked up towards the door of his office.

Standing there was one of his assistants wearing a lightly wrinkled grey suit and a solemn expression. A thin layer of sweat was clearly visible on his upper forehead as he gripped the door knob. "Sir…" he repeated half inside the room, his other half standing just outside the threshold. "We have a slight situation." He barely finished, never giving America a chance to react before the door opened the rest of the way with a bang.

Jeffrey, his poor assistant who was going to get a raise after today, scurried out of the way as the large figure of the Russian nation came through the doorway. America's face fell as the Russian stalked his way over. His forlorn expression lasted only a mere second before shifting into smug as he stood up from his chair. Cocking his chin upward, America held back a snarl when the Russian smiled at him upon reaching his desk.

"America, you are doing well, yes?" Russia said casually, as if he did not just barge into America's office in the middle of the day, most likely permanently scarring an employee or two. His expression remained ever the same as he glazed the room. It wasn't much, just a small office with wooden floors, white walls, and a window. He had to have a window. Demanded it when they made him this space for when he didn't feel like heading down to his more luxurious room in the White House. "Da?" He asked again, when his eyes returned to the blonde before him.

"Yeah." America answered simply; smacking his lips and stuffing his hands into his pockets. "What are you doing here?" He asked, earning himself a confused look and a tilt of the head from the Russian.

"Ah, you do not remember?" Russia's taunted, his head tilting innocently back to the opposite side. "I came to visit." He continued answering the question. He knew it wasn't what the American was asking, not exactly.

America remembered the visit. It was announced just a day before the Russian was to arrive and he heard about it every day since then. The Russian had already been in the country for several days now. America had just been able to give him the slip. He was finally beginning to relax, thinking he would get out of it scot-free. So, yes, he remembered the visit very well.

"Yeah, I got that." America said with a melancholy look. "I just mean, what are you doing _here_?" he said pointing his index fingers to the ground.

"Ah." The Russian giggled making America cringe and face muscles scrunch. "Well, America." He paused to give a dimpled grin. "While I have enjoyed the…ah—what is the name—Wheaties?" he again stopped in wait for a reaction, smiling when he only received the sight of the American swallowing. "It has been quite good. However, I was hoping to be given a tour by the host." He took a step closer, laying his hand flat on top of the shiny wood. "I have been lonely."

"Oh." America cleared his throat and eyed his phone. He was willing someone somewhere on the other end to call in right at that very moment. He just needed enough time to think of what to do or say. His attempt at telepathy failed and all he was left with was a nervous assistant, a staring Russian, and awkward silence.

"And bored." Russia said interrupting the quiet creeping around them.

"Oh." America repeated himself articulately. "Ah…" He quickly continued in a small panic when he noticed the Russian beginning to open his mouth once again. "Tomorrow." Not wanting to be beaten to the punch he blurted out the first thing he could think of. In a bizarre sloped forced smile and a creased brow, America internally kicked himself. "Tomorrow, we'll start the tour." He finished having no other choice.

"Good." Russia nodded. "I would very much like that." Leaning off the desk, he straightened his posture as he made his way to leave. "I appreciate your hospitality." Just as the two Americans were beginning to loosen their shoulders and relax, Russia stopped mid way through the office. "Ah, but I would not mind more of the Wheaties." He grinned as he turned his head back to face the American standing behind his desk. "Ice cream would also be welcomed." He finished just before stepping his way out the room, the door shutting behind him.

America stood silently still, staring at the closed engraved wooden door. He blinked almost endlessly for a full minute, unbelieving what had just transpired. He prayed to the freedom gods that the communist would not stroll back in. It was bad enough that he now had to spend the rest of his week with him.

Swallowing the over moisture that was collecting in his mouth, America shook his head in order to knock himself out of his stupor. He ran a hand over his face and signed. As he slowly regained consciousness from his temporary trance, he noticed his traumatized assistant still there. He was standing still, slightly hunched over with his shoulder pressed on the wall near the door. He also was peering through the woodened barrier, wishing he could look through with x-ray vision.

"Jeffrey." America called out causing the already jittery man to pop up straight in a nervous panic, his eye round as he turned to face his nation.

"Yes?" He asked nearly breathless, America making his way to him.

"Why don't you take the rest of the day off?" America suggested, pressing a hand on the shorter man's shoulder. "Yeah?" he said when Jeffrey only looked up at him silently.

"Okay" the assistant nodded, agreeing. "Okay, I would like that. Thank you, sir" he said as he continued nodding in place until a hand on his middle back pushed him gently to the door. Grabbing the handle almost subconsciously, Jeffrey stepped through and out of the room.

As the door closed softly, a grand contrast from the loud snap of before, America leaned forward, resting his forehead onto the glossed wood. He didn't know if the difference between the two exits were a reality or simply his mind creating it, the dread of seeing the Russian making everything volatile. He eventually came to the conclusion that Russia just brought it all with him. That was the only reason he could agree on within his own inner debate.

He inhaled deeply, the smell of polish entering his lungs. "I'm an idiot." He whispered into the door, the only thing in the now quite room that could hear him.

/

"You actually sent him cereal?!" England exclaimed, completely bewildered at the American's actions. He knew the young nation was cocky, over confident, and often juvenile but to—no, he supposed he shouldn't be so surprised. He has witnessed America's less then fully thought-out ideas before yet, that didn't mean he couldn't question his sanity. "Are you mad?"

"Yes." Canada quickly answered from the round sitting table in the kitchen, never giving the American the chance to reply.

"Thanks, Matt." America said giving his brother the most sarcastic smile he could muster. "I mean, what was I thinking?" He hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Next thing you know I'll be making him my boyfriend."

"Cuba's not my boyfriend!" Canada interrupted, shooting up to a standing position, his hands slamming onto the table.

"Whoa, man…" America said, holding out his hands in front of himself in a sign of surrender. "No one mentioned anything about Cuba." He smiled despite shaking his head. "I think someone is being a little oversensitive here, don't you?" He pointed his thumb towards his brother as he glanced towards England, who was facing away from them. "There's no reason to be so defensive unless you know—

"Oh shut up, Alfred." Canada snarled, again not letting the American finish his undesirable rant. "You've been throwing jabs about him all day." He said also looking over at England for support.

England was, of course ignoring the argument between the two North American nations. Well, he was trying his hardest to at least. He was currently reading over the day's newspaper. He was looking down, his head resting upon the palm of his hand. He appeared to be very intrigued with all of the day's articles. Upon closer inspection anyone could have noticed that he had been on the same spot for the last 10 minutes.

"No, I haven't" America countered when the Canadian's backup did not arrive. "Maybe the guilt of your commie lover is just getting too much for you to handle."

Canada lets out an exasperated huff at the American's words and shook his head. The urge to grab the closest item and chunk it at the other nation's head was slowly rising within him; which so happened to be a fork. His only restraint was knowing that America was having a rollercoaster of a year and the year had just begun.

America had recently acknowledged Cuba's new government and it only added to his obsession. America was trying to get along with the Cuban but, he had his suspicions that he could not shake, and honestly Canada couldn't say he was wrong. It was bad enough that the excitement of having Alaska as his 49th state was overshadowed by his visitor.

"He's not my lover." Canada added before the American could believe he had won the argument. "But with all the sexual tension between you and Russia it's only about time before you two—

"What?!" America exclaimed at the outrageous allegation. Low blow. Canada was well aware.

"It's because of all of the eye sex."

"Matti, don't make me—

"Oh, for God's sakes." England groaned ripping through his coat of silence. With a swift motion, he folded the newspaper back together and stood, shoving the paper underneath his arm. "Would you two kindly shut your bloody mouths?" The two younger nations immediately silenced themselves, Canada retaking his seat. They knew that tone. There was something about that tone that made them slightly revert back to tiny nations. The key word was slightly as the two North Americans were trying their hardest not to roll their eyes at the elder nation, perhaps it reverts them back to teenagers.

America was prepared to open his mouth and retaliate. He was ready to shout out sound arguments of "He started it" until he was silenced once more by the sight of England struggling to walk. It was not that he appeared to be injured, not by any means. Instead, it was the way he bumped into his chair that was directly behind him right before bumping into the chair next to him. He was finally able to made it away from the dining table when he walked into the standing American.

Attempting to play off the misstep, England lightly padded the American's chest. England looked up at the taller man as he ignored the look of intrigued confusion. "Behave yourself." England said, pointing towards the American's face. He only received a silent smile in return.

Promptly turning around, he pointed his finger to the general vicinity of where Canada still sat at the table. "You too." Canada frowned, yet no real anger eluded. The two younger nations remained quiet as he made his way out of the room, not without first bumping right into the wall next to the door. Several curses were directed towards the evil wall that—"Came out of nowhere." before England was finally able to leave the room.

The two North American nations stared blankly at the door, directly where the European once stood. "Okay…"Canada exclaimed once he broke his focus and turned to his brother.

"Maybe he got jealous?"America shrugged rather smugly.

"Oh yeah…" The Canadian said, his voice dripping with false enthusiasm. "That must have been it." He sighed and rested his head on his palm when his brother nodded in agreement.

* * *

><p>"I am very much enjoying the ice cream." Russia exclaimed with childlike flurries in his eyes as he licked his lips and the remaining bits on the white plastic spoon.<p>

America contained himself as much as he could from simultaneously rolling his eyes and gagging. He couldn't say he was having a terrible time, but he in no way was going to admit that being with Russia was anything more than cringe worthy. He had his American pride to uphold—or regain after the embarrassing incident in his office a couple days ago.

"It is quite good, yes?" Russia asked a factory worker wearing a denim blue jumper.

The man laughed at the question, finding it all very amusing. "Aren't you cold?" The man asked as he denied a taste of the vanilla flavored ice cream.

"_Nyet_, reminds me of my summers." Russia smiled, taking in another spoonful. The man laughed at the Russian's joke, drawing a crowd of those nearby. They surrounded the tall nation as he continued to talk about all range of topics. Meanwhile, America stood a few feet away, his arms crossed and his ears beginning to fume.

He wished his citizens would just go away, that they would quit crowding around like they actually wanted to hear what the Russian had to say. He really wished they would stop giving him weird stares.

Russia at least seemed to be having a nice time. It was going well enough that he no longer had to visit the American's office. It was an agreement. America had to keep Russia entertained and in returned Russia would stop traumatizing the employees. A win/win situation.

One of the things the Russian insisted on doing was going around and visiting—speaking to the American people. America hesitantly agreed after a grueling session of persuasion, which consisted of Russia having a staring contest with him until he gave in. It was long and torturous 60 seconds.

Now, the American stood in his own factory standing on the sidelines with a pout on his face, secretly crying out for attention like the outcast in school watching the quarterback surrounded by his peers. 'Damn you, citizens. No, I'm playing, please love me.' was written all over his face as he began biting his lip, his glower still remaining.

"When it is calm and peaceful we can all go out for ice cream, yes?" Russia asked the crowed, who smiled, nodded, and some replied back with a "yes" or "sounds great."

America failed to hold in the loud groan and click of the tongue with that particular comment. So now, when all the eyes finally turned to him with a deafening silence that was brought upon the formerly lively room, it felt unwelcomed. The nation could feel his face flush; knowing that a rose glow was slowly creeping its way through his pores. He wished he could back away into a dark corner where he could hide within its shadows and disappear.

His eyes locked onto the Russian's after no longer being able to withstand returning the glaze of his citizens. The tall Russian stood hunched, never moving from his previous position. He blinked several times as he stared back. After a few more seconds of an incredibly long awkward moment of silence, Russia tilted his head like a confused kitten. "Everybody like peace, Mr. Jones." He said, his soft voice somehow now sounded like that of a hurt child.

Despite never removing his eyes away from the taller nation, America could feel the hurt, confusion and anger being cast at him from all angles. He could feel the heavy pressure weighing down upon him. He knew he had to say something. To say anything that would placate the currently emotional crowd. So, with a smile he thought of his best weapon. His charms.

"Of course they do!" America exclaimed, letting out a laugh. "It's just—" he began making his way over to the Russian with a skip in his step. "It's just that I don't know anyone that likes waiting for ice cream." He said, lacing a seemly friendly hand on Russia's arm." Right?" he asked looking up at the taller nation.

Standing up to his full impressive height, Russia turned to the man he had initially offered the cold treat to. The man looked up at him, the face of contentment temporarily gone as the situation soured. Saying nothing to this man, Russia, turned back to his fellow nation and smiled. "Da!"

* * *

><p>"So you took them all out for ice cream?" England's voice echoed from the kitchen as he closed the freezer door. He turned up his lip in disappointment and shuffled his way to the living room where America sat watching a loud television program.<p>

"Yeah." He replied with a shrug. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"Not have made an arse of yourself for one." England said, reaching for the American's shoulder.

"Gee, thanks." America said, his voice dripping in sarcasm. "I am glad that Russia played along though." He finished, before facing the hand that was gently placed on him. Narrowing his forehead in confusion, he looked up the owner of the slender hand.

"Alfred, love." America cocked a brow. "Be a dear and buy me some fish." America scoffed, rolled his eyes, and let out an exasperated sigh at the unquestionable amount of wisdom given by the older nation.—so much for some words of advice.

"No." He shook his head. "This is your war not mine. You go buy your own fish." He continued, receiving a solemn look. "You know what?" he asked rhetorically, England's expression remaining ever the same. "You should literally use your own fish, quit eating mine."

"Oh, you can't be serious." England hastily removed his hand off the American's shoulder, crossing his arms instead. "You want me to export my own fish to where you can pick them up—just so I can eat them."

"Of course not." America shook his head again slowly. "That still sounds like entirely too much work for me." He smirked, a pointy tooth making a slight appearance at the tip of his upper lip. "Find a way to export them directly to yourself."

"Fine." England puffed, making his way to the front door of the house. "I'll get my own bloody fish." He exclaimed before swiftly opening the door and leaving with a slam.

"Damn it." America mumbled to himself as he watched the Brit storm out of the house. The last thing he needed was an angry Englishman roaming around lost in the streets (because he will get lost) shouting about fish. His neighbors thought he was absurdly weird as it was; his current mental state in no way helping their opinions on what seemed to be a young man. Sure they were polite, some even looked to genuinely like him enough to invite him to barbeques and birthday parties but, deep down America felt that they knew he was different.

Groaning, he finally decided that going after England would be the best option. As he peered out the door he had just opened, he was relieved to see that England was still visible in the distance. America could catch up to him easily. He didn't seem to being walking with that much speed and America's long legs could move him along quickly. Knowing that it was still important to move fast, America rushed inside to grab his keys and two coats. England was upset enough to storm out without any protection from the winter weather.

As he suspected, Mrs. Potter from two doors down was following him with her eyes as he sped down the sidewalk to reach his "little English friend". She always managed to cock an eyebrow whenever she spoke of England. She liked to bring him up at random points in their conversations as well, especially during times when their travel gaps were long. Yup, definitely knew there was something going on there.

"Arthur!" America shouted, fog seeping from his mouth as he got only a few feet behind the Brit—that was clearly ignoring him. "Arthur, wait." America again tempted to grab his attention, but England simply began to speed up. "Arthur, come on." America said, also beginning to take longer strides. "I know you're cold." England paused by less than a second as he looked down at his crossed arms; perhaps he was a little cold. "Art, you're not even going the right way." America said almost running in to the Brit when he finally stopped in his tracks.

England groaned to himself lightly as he felt his own coat being draped over shoulders. He growled louder once he felt the warmed of the wool engulf him. Yet, he still refused to turn around and face the younger nation.

"Arthur—"

"Perhaps I'll just leave then." England said, interrupting the other nation's words. "I should just go home."

"No, don't do that." America said, stopping himself from draping his arm around the shorter nation to bring him into a hug from behind. He didn't want those passing by to question them and jump into what was probably the right conclusion. So, instead, he settled for placing a hand on England's shoulder. "I don't want you to go." He could hear the Brit exhale. "I need you to stay."

England remained silent as he stood, glancing up at the clouded skies. It was beautiful day, cold but, the sun was poking out and calling for attention. "Will you buy me fish?" He asked with a smirk, knowing that America was smiling despite not being able to see him.

"Well, fine, I suppose I can stay for a little while longer." England puffed with a playful roll of the eyes.

"Good." America said quietly with a smile and a slight nod of the head, content with the outcome.

They then proceeded to stand by each other awkwardly, not knowing what step should be taken next. Their eyes shifted in between each other and the ground as surrounding sounds echoed around them. The roaring of passing cars and the cries of children playing nearby being the primary source of noise as America began fidgeting in a battle against fatigue. "Was I really going the wrong way?" England said, bringing the attention back onto him.

"No." America said with an immense grin creeping onto his face and eyes that glistened with joy as the Brit's cheeks puffed up in embarrassed anger.

"Prat." England proclaimed, turning away from the American and continuing on in his course to the nearest grocery store. He became increasingly worried when he began hearing the other laughing behind him. Instead of paying any mind to the immature super power, he keep his back turned and his legs moving, all until he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, baby." America said through his teeth in between chuckles. "I'm just playing." England wrinkled his forehead in confusion as the America turned him around, "You're not even close." America further snorted as he began gently pushing the Brit in the opposite direction, as the Brit's face became redder then before.

"Bollocks."

* * *

><p>"I have a feeling that you providing me with all these sweets is your means of seducing me."<p>

"Hm?" America asked, being knocked out of his current stupor. He had managed to somehow find a way to completely come up with a strategy of defense in case of a surprise attack during his walk. He blinked multiple times, grateful that he hadn't bummed into anything or anyone during his thoughts, apparently his subconscious was working with him. Glancing up towards the Russian nation that had been ironically walking besides him the whole time, America noticed the ice cream cone that the tall nation held in his hands. "Oh."American shrugged. "Is it working?"

"I would say slightly, da." Russia answered happily, licking a few rainbow sprinkles off the top.

"Oh—kay, that's…weird." America didn't need to know that.

"I'm also enjoying these." Russia paused from his snack in order to lift up his arm, his free hand holding a plastic bag filled with several food cans inside.

"Ah, right." America widened his eyes in irritated disbelief. "Look, Russia." America said, causing the taller nation to smile a reply in between his spoonful of strawberry ice cream. "I'm actually not having a completely horrible time with you." America fidgeted with a cringe. "Even though admitting that makes me want to jump off a cliff." He said mostly to himself in a loud whisper. This didn't stop the Russian from listening in with a lip inching up towards his ears in a one-sided smirk.

"But, I think we should get back to business." America looked up at the taller nation, waiting for a response. He knew it was either going to be a murderous threat hidden behind false contentment or a murderous threat out in the open. At this point he wasn't sure which he would prefer. "Wouldn't you agree that eventually something has to be talked about?" he paused as the Russian looked like he was thinking over his words. A variation of the threat had yet to be given but he could never count it out as a possibility.

Just as the blonde was going to open his mouth again, no doubt spewing reason why getting back to work was the best option, Russia hummed. "But we were taking care of business just a few months ago." Russia finally stated, looking down at America's not so amusing expression.

The younger nation knew too well where he was going with that. The soviet was clearing speaking about the amazing meeting they had just this past November, the very meeting where Russia had presented the grand ultimatum of either to move out of Berlin or to move out of Berlin. America, England and France not agreeing to such a deal was an understatement but they remained strong about their stance. Just as America had said, they were doing it together. There was safety in numbers and America was sure the Russian knew this.

The meeting and ultimatum was what America wanted to eventually discuss with the Russian, ever since he first landed on the states. Up until now nothing of the sorts had been mentioned and America's patience was running thin. He had to bring it up before he burst with a brigade of firework and punches, probably a few cops and England shaking his head on the sidelines.

"Right," America shook his head after a moment of quiet breathing. "And I think that's one of the things we should probably talk about."

"Oh?"

The young nation continued his breathing exercises inconspicuously as the Russian continued to play his game of innocence. "Yes, how about we go to my office?" he suggested, pointing to the direction of the building. "You haven't been there again in a while." He smiled, while internally thanking the freedom gods for that.

"Da." The soviet said, agreeing.

/

"Jeffery!" The shout echoed throughout the hallways filling the otherwise silent atmosphere as the two nations made their way to America's office. This was America's favorite office and often used it when he didn't want to deal with the hustle and bustle of the White House. He also knew that he only became productive in the art of procrastination if he tried to use his office at home.

America always liked having a limited staff on the premises, finding no need to have so many helping him out. One of those employees was Jeffery, who worked like a personal assistant. He was young man, eager to help out his nation. One of the very few who happened to know America's true identity. It was this knowledge that led the young man's face to convert from a look of content to one of distress when he stepped out into the hallway to greet the nation. Still slightly and/or greatly traumatized by his past interaction with the Russian, Jeffery strained his face into a smile as to not make his nervousness obvious. However, with much appreciation, America dismissed him for the rest of day. Maybe he should bring some cookies and Coca Cola to his nation once this was all over. That could really help him reach that raise.

"Alright, come this way." America led the way to his office that he made sure to tidy up before today. He couldn't have any secrets spill out, now could he? "Sit down." He gestured towards the cushioned brown chair placed in front of his desk. Making his way around to the other side, he waited until the Russian took a seat before taking his own. "So, the ultimatum…"

"Da?"

"As mind blowing as it is…" Russia smirked at the sarcasm being thrown at him. "We obviously haven't and won't agree to it." America intertwined his fingers over his desk as he waited for the Russian to respond back in a way other than the slight nodding that he was doing. "You have to know that." He continued.

"Do you ever think that perhaps, you three are hard to please?" Russia asked intertwining his own fingers over the desk, mirroring the man in front of him.

"That's because you are horrible at making deals."

"I care to differ."

"Agree to disagree." America said through gritted teeth. This meeting was proving to be harder to handle then he had anticipated. He figured that after the past few successful days that this would be easier to get through. He was apparently wrong. On the bright side, the urge to leap across the desk and strangle the soviet was not overpowering and urgent. A sense of control was all that mattered in times like these.

"That seems to be the best conclusion." Russia wiggled his still intertwined fingers. "However, I do have a suggestion. You are interested in hearing it, yes?"

"Huh, do you?" A one-sided smirk landed on the American's lips as he subconsciously leaned closer. "Go on."

"Berlin, together," American nodded, liking the idea thus far. "And free..." America lifted his chin slightly, waiting for the Russian's finals words. "Under the east."

"Of course." America said in a harsh exhale. "What was I thinking?" the younger nation asked, one of his hands coming up to rub the side of his face, suddenly feeling a rush of tiredness sweep over him. "Is that all you can come up with?"He looked directly at the expressionless face. "All you Reds just think the same, don't you?" he asked rhetorically, remembering China's proposal regarding the unification of Korea several years earlier.

"Agree to disagree." Russia responded simply with a smile.

/

England flinched violently, the hairs on his arms rising as he immediately began to mentally and physically prepare himself to pounce into action. The dip in weight on the mattress and the arm around his waist had wakened him up from his slumber with a start. The room was dark and otherwise silent but that didn't stop him from beginning to leap off the bed. "It's me." He heard breaking through the veil. With much relief, his heartbeat and breath slowed at the familiar voice.

The Brit turned to the alarm clock on the small table next to the bed, barely being able to make out the 1:00am the arms pointed to. Sighing, he slowly lowered himself to the warmth the blankets provided. "You're late." He said, settling down into a comfortable position, slightly leaning into the body behind him.

"Hm." America hummed in agreement, digging his face into the Brit's messy blonde hair. He made it home much later then he was hoping.

"How'd it go?" England asked, lowering his voice into a whisper, speaking at a normal volume seemed unnecessary at this time of night.

England waited for a response while finding the small tail of light seeping through the curtained window to be quite fascinating. He eventually frowned at the lengthy pause, believing the American to be asleep. Now, he was left awake, the sleep being sweep away at his alarming jolt earlier.

"Russia holds a hard bargain." America finally replied, his voice vibrating the Brit's strands.

"That bad?" England asked, shifted onto his back, in the attempts to view the younger man's face.

"I wouldn't necessarily say that." America said into the Brit's temple.

"Well, then?" England's patience was beginning to run thin. He knew the American was planning to bring up the conversation about the ultimatum today. So, he had waited the entire day for any news. When he noticed that the day had come and gone without any word or an appearance from the American, he had come to terms that he would not be able to find out the outcome until morning. However, now that he was awake in the middle of the night, he couldn't think of waiting further.

"He dropped it." America said simply, the older man gaining a look of confusion as he again shifted his position, this time turning over to directly face the younger nation.

"He dropped it." America repeated. "He dropped the ultimatum completely." He grinned, his teeth shinning despite the dimness of the room.

"Are you serious?" England asked in disbelief. He wasn't expecting good new after his day of worriment.

"Yeah." America chuckled lightly, cupping the Englishman's face in his hand. "Why wouldn't I be?" His grin continued.

"I don't know," England paused. "It's just that—

"I know." America interrupted the words the Brit was struggling to get out. "Hey, man." He moved his arm to once again wrap around England's waist. "I'm not going to question it."

"No, I suppose not." England said softly, turning around to face away from the other nation, with his first smile of the day.

"I told you we'd do this together." America said, his voice completely drenched with drowsiness as his body was slowly succumbing to sleep. His tiring day was finally beginning to take its tow.

"Yes, yes you did." England agreed, gently rubbing the arm that curled comfortably around him. Closing his own eyes, he too surrendered to sleep once more, smile two on his face as he did so.

* * *

><p>"Why are we here again?" Canada asked, leaning heavily on the arm of the couch, as he watched his brother move from one side of the room to the other. On the upside, at least he was pacing from excitement and not paranoia.<p>

"Because you are my brother." America promptly stopped walking to point at the Canadian. "And you are my lover."

"Don't call me that." England frowned deeply as America turned to point at him next, the request obviously being ignored as he continued on. "And you are…"America paused, his words stuck. "And you are –France." He finally let out. The Frenchman smiled.

"And…" Canada asked exasperated at the long winded response.

Pausing from politely returning the France's smile, America turned to his brother and grinned widely. "And you guys get to witness, first hand, my greatness." He exclaimed with a pompous hand on his chest and a shut of the eyes.

The three nations nestled on the couch verbally groaned and rolled their eyes. The American either missed the display, too excited to notice or simply decided to ignore it. "It's going to be amazing." America said, plopping himself on the already crowded couch, wiggling his way in between the Brit and the Frenchman.

"Really?" England asked about the American stuffing himself in between as he placed one of his heavy arms around the Brit's shoulders.

"Yeah." America replied, clearly missing the point of the question. Turning around to his left, America smiled at France before settling himself completely and before turning his attention to the television. "This will be part of history." America says proudly, a glimmer in his eyes twinkling.

"Everything is part of history."

"Don't be jaded, Art." America replied to the Brit's melancholy response, shaking his shoulder lightly. England growled like a cat.

"It is rather exciting, _Amérique__."_ France said encouraging the younger man.

"I know, right?" America exclaimed, wrapping his other arm around the Frenchmen's shoulder. It was quite a strange sight to see. It earning looks from even France himself. Glancing up to face England and Canada on the opposite side of America, France just shrugged and settled in his seat surprisingly not taking advantage of the situation with his French ways.

"And I can't wait to see the astronauts." America grinned. "Isn't that cool?" he asked shaking his companions, zealous enough to reach over to grab a hold of the Canadian's shoulder. "Astronaut…" He repeated the word majestically, his eyes glancing up beyond the ceiling. "So much better than spacemen." He said making a disgruntled face. "Astronaut just sounds so much more professional." He continued, sitting up straighter in order to go along with his words subconsciously. "I can't wait to find out who gets picked. A lot of them were good." America got up and walked over to the TV, turning the volume up. He wanted to make sure he didn't miss anything once the announcements started.

This was the day he would finally prove to the Soviet just how much he was winning the space race. Russia could send up as many satellites as he wanted into space but, once America achieved to get people to visit the skies, then anything else would see like nothing.

"Wait." Canada spoke up once America finished messing with the TV and was just watching the commercial on screen as he stood. "You mean you don't know who it's going to be?"

"Nope." America replied with a hop. "I did meet them. They're all test pilots. I was there during the exams and practice but I wanted to be surprised about the final picks."He said making his way back to his fellow nations, wedging his way into the space he previously inhabited. "Knowing everything before everyone else isn't fun all the time."

"I rather like it." England spoke out, grabbing the attention of the rest.

"That's because you're controlling." America replied, the Brit not taking the words too kindly. The two French speaking nations on the other hand, adorned smiles.

"I am not." England said, earning him a few laughs and giggles from those around him. Ah, a thing that the American, Frenchman, and Canadian could agree on. England's denial, of course continued despite the fact that he knew full well that he did maybe, just maybe have a slight controlling streak. It's just one of those things that come naturally as an extra bonus when you become an empire. So, the damned frog could shut his mouth promptly. His former colonies would be forgiven in due time, however.

"Anyways…" America wouldn't let the attention be taken away from him for too long. Not today. Besides, the broadcast was just about to begin. As the man in charge of the project stepped on screen-a man America had had a pleasure working with-America leaned forward in his seat waiting for the announcement. His heart and hand trembled with excitement. He loved doing this as much as he could or as much as they would allow him to. Just sitting and waiting, waiting with this overwhelming anticipation like the rest of citizens. This, this ability to feel what his citizens felt at the exact same time made him feel the most close to them. It made him feel connected, equal.

"Good choice." America exclaimed at one of the names announced. "I liked that Buzz guy. He seemed like a cool cat. Buzz sounds like a great astronaut name, doesn't it?" America asked. He never received a reply, yet he paid it no mind. He was too intrigued with the rest of the programming. If the rest of the nations wanted to be perfectly honest, they'd admit to being engrossed with it as well. This was the start of something huge for everyone. England sighed quietly, knowing that his general demeanor today came from the realization that with his current economic status the closest way he had of competing was to climb up a tall ladder. As he turned to the beaming American, England was hit by yet another realization and bitter thought. '_This bastard isn't even 200 years old.' _ Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

* * *

><p>"You say that like its important." America stated with boredom from his work desk. He sat slouched over, his palm holding up his head on the wooden furniture. Looking down at him was his faithful assistant who was currently wishing that his boss and country would take things a bit more seriously then it appeared that he was.<p>

"Don't be daft." An English accent rang. America turned a smile to the Englishman sitting on a chair by the right wall of his office. He sat cross-legged, mixing a cup of tea in his hands with a small silver spoon. "I apologize on his behalf, Jeffery." England said as he tapped the spoon on the teacup lightly before placing the utensil on a napkin that was set down on a small coffee table beside him.

"Thank you, Mr. Kirkland." The assistant said, sending a polite nod to British representative.

"Geez—" Shaking his head, America leaned back into his chair, his arms resting behind his head.

"They said they need an opinion by the end of the day." Jeffery mentioned. America's boss and his advisors were surprisingly giving their country a longer time than usual before they made a decision with or without his opinion or approval.

"Uh-huh, I got it." America dismissed, never taking his sights off the white carved ceiling. His assistant uncertain of what to do next stood awkwardly in the office his own eyes glancing towards his shoes.

"Jeffery, dear." The assistant's head pivoted quickly at the sound of his name. "If it's not too much trouble, do you mind finding me a few biscuits to accompany my tea?"

"Sure." Jeffery nodded happily as he rushed through the door. "That's cookies, right?" he asked, his head poking back into the office leaving a humorous and bizarre appearance of a disembodied head. Receiving a nod of approval from the Brit, he again slipped out on his search of sweets.

Releasing a snorkeled laugh, America again sat up properly in his chair. "I think he likes you." He said stretching his arms.

"Of course he does." England replied lifting up his cup and saucer into his hand. "I treat him with respect." He took a sip.

"Please." America snorted.

"Jealous?" England smirked.

"Hardly." America leaned onto his palm. "No need, baby." He winked, earning himself a snort in return. "Besides, I think you remind him of his grandma.

"Isn't that quaint?" England replied, showing no signs of being offended by the American's comments at all. America smiled at his own defeat. Only England would enjoy being compared to somebody's grandmother.

Quietness then enveloped the room while England placed his tea back on the table, the china making a quiet chime when hitting the wood. Looking back, America had closed his eyes, looking like he was in much need for a nap. "You're mad if you think you aren't doing this." The Brit said, no longer being able to stay silent about the topic at hand. It surprised him that the information was given to the American while he remained in the room. As all government official business goes, secrecy is a default. Often times, news would be given either through phone in a different room or when given in person they had the nation temporarily step out.

"No, I know." America sighed, opening his eyes and lifting his head. "I'm going to do it. I'm not really left with much of a choice anyways, one way or another." America said, finally giving sharing some of his thoughts on the situation. "But twice in a year?" he groaned into his hand, England looked upon the younger nation with sympathy.

America already had to deal with the arrival of Russia earlier this year. It was unexpected and left him unprepared. Despite the visit not going horrible, the American didn't feel the need to tempt fate. Truthfully, he knew it was a good idea but, he didn't want to have to deal with the soviet nation again. It seemed like too much, too soon. Unfortunately, it was likely going to happen. The Russian had recently commented on his desire to visit America, which left the nation with little to no choice but to formally invite him to come.

"I don't envy you, love."

"Not about this anyways." America smiled at England's scrunched lips.

"Shut your mouth, boy." The younger nation laughed just as his assistant made it back into the room, a plate full of cookies in his hands.

"This is all I could find." Jeffery stated as he shuffled over to the Brit. "We don't have anything fancy here." He continued, setting the dish on the coffee table. America rolled his eyes. Traitor.

"Thank you, you are too kind." England placed a comforting hand on to the assistant's arm. "Don't worry about it. They're perfect, darling."

"Oh, well, you're welcome." Jeffery said, again returning to his post of awkward standing, now with a grin.

"Good grief." America said under his breath. If England spoke to him like that he'd swoon too and he was the one going out with him. "Jeffery." This time, the assistant's head turned to his own nation.

"Sir?"

"Call the White House. Tell Eisenhower I said to send the invite."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir." He nodded and rushed out, happy that his job today would be easy and not filled with hours of begging his boss and nation for an answer. He really hated when the White House yelled at him.

Sighing as he watched the door come to a proper close, the American looked over to the Brit who was taking a bite of shortbread. "Why don't you ever call me darling?"

"Oh, don't you start."

America laughed. "I love you too, sweetheart."

/

"Mr. America, you have come to see me in." Russia said as he noticed America waiting for him as he stepped out of the airport. "How different from the last time, da?" he continued smugly, reminding the American about his earlier visit and the less than hospitable treatment he received. The case would be different this time around as this was an official visit. An invite and acceptance was given all within two week several months ago.

America chuckled apprehensively. "Ha—ha, yes…Ah, I brought you some ice cream." He said, holding up a shopping bag which held cartons of the dairy dessert.

"Splendid, my favorite." Russia took the bag joyfully.

"There are two in there."

"Thank you, little America." America gritted his teeth. The amount of distain he held for each and every time the Russian called him "little America" was immense. He should receive a medal for the most improved when it came to his temper and controlling his urges to strangle. He believed that he had made quite a feat compared to a few years ago.

"You're welcome." He replied through his teeth. "What kind of host would I be if I didn't come, huh?" he said as he turned away and began walking towards his car that was waiting for them patiently in the same place he had parked it. He refused to have anyone drive him, preferring to do things himself. Going through the steps of entertaining the soviet nation and having the closest thing they could to a diplomatic discussion. Glancing over his shoulder, he was glad that the Russian had gotten the clue to follow him. He didn't want the awkward situation of having to grab the visitor while explaining why he was abandoned.

"So...is there anything you want to do first?" America asked as they reached the Cadillac, Russia eyeing the car with a sort of distasteful snare. America held his tongue at the sight, instead deciding to ignore the sentiment and proceeded in opening the driver's side door with a rattle of his keys.

Quickly switching his expression to his signature façade, Russia glanced up right before the American made his way inside the vehicle. Hearing the lock to his door click, he swiftly opened it and made his way inside as well. After settling himself his beige leathered seat, he beamed. "I would like to visit Disneyland."

America's face fell. Any mention of visiting the land of fantasy and adventure usually had the young nation jumping out of his seat but, it was much different this time around. "Uh, yeah…no can do there, champ." He said letting the news out as gently as he possibly could in efforts to avoid an angry Russian.

"Eh?" Russia asked with a perplexed look. "I believe you asked me what I would like to do, _da_?" he asked for confirmation.

America licked his lips as he turned the key to the ignition. "I did, but—"

"And that is what I would enjoy doing." The Russian interrupted. "I wish to see 'the happiest place on Earth.'"

"I do too." The younger nation exclaimed, the roar of the running engine filling the car. "I would love to." He laughed. "You know I love it there and would love to show you, really." He scratched his arm. "It's just I can't. Security issues and all." He shrugged.

"Security issues?"

"Yeah, I—it's just that we can't promise your safety there so, no can do." He said, staring at the soviet's face for an indication of any emotion. The moment became a short staring contest as the Russian stayed silent for a moment before nodded. America's lip slowly lifted upwards, happy that the older nation understood.

"Do you believe that a group of many of your citizens will ambush me?" America's brows narrowed. "That I will get lost?" Russia's eyes widened in false revelation. "Or perhaps you have hidden missiles within the confines of the amusement park?"

"...What?"

"It must be combination of the three, _da?_" He nodded his again, the host nation not finding the right words to say. "That must be the reason for my first request to be so quickly refused. To think I believed this would bring good memories."

"Russia, that's not—

"Well, little America if that happens to be the case I will consider continuing this visit on my own." America was left flabbergasted as the tall Russian promptly opened the door and stepped out of the black car. Blinking out of his stupor, America shouted out to Russia who simply ignored his cry, slamming the door shut instead.

"Wait!" America yelled in vain, the Russian could no longer hear him as he sat in the still running car. "This isn't happening." He said to himself as he held his head in his hands. "It can't be happening...this can't be happening!" He thrashed about, the steering wheel being the victim of several blows. "Great—great! The damn war is going start over Mickey Mouse!" He continued shouting to himself before calming. "Okay…" he inhaled and exhaled deeply while patting his cheeks, attempting a self pep talk. "I can do this." He said just before taking a few more relaxing breathes followed by thrashing around one more time. Stopping his mini tantrum, he let out a groan, turned the engine off and climbed out of the car.

"Russia!" he shouted, receiving weird looks from civilizations walking around the large park lot. "Damn it." He whispered to himself as he began jogging toward the taller man who had managed to walk quite a distance away. "Russia." He called out again at a normal volume once he reached the taller man. This time making sure that he did not cause a stir. "Wait." He grabbed the other man's coated elbow. "Look, this wasn't my decision, okay?" he only received a blank stare. "If it was up to me I'd be like, sure, let's go. Let's ride some rides. That's more fun than…" he raised and dropped his arms quickly. "This." America watched on hoping for some sort of response but, the Russian remained unchanged. America still couldn't help internally laughing when he noticed the plastic bag filled with ice cream cartons in the Russian's hands. "Come on. I have an idea of something fun we can do, yeah?" he finished, pulling out his charm.

"Very well." Russia voiced at last, nodding his head and walking back to the car without another word.

/

"So, you're…enjoying yourself?" America whispered; stealing a glance at the Russian who was intently staring straight ahead at the stage presented in front of them.

"I…am." The soviet replied in an equally soft voice, not wanting to distract the actors who performed their lines on the set. Blinking, not removing his eyes from the performance he grabbed a spoonful of strawberry ice cream, scooping it into his mouth with a satisfied smile. "His voice is very good." He commented, the dairy treat plumping up his cheek as he spoke.

"Definitely." The American nodded. "I think I heard that they were going to work on a dancing part next so, that should be great."

"Hm." Russia hummed.

America amused by the level of enthusiasm the Russian was displaying over witnessing the shooting covered his mouth to help suppress the chuckle he wanted to release. He was fortunate that he was able to bring the Russian over to the movie set for a visit. The soviet had truly liked being introduced to the actors, the very Frank Sinatra included. He would be incredibly lucky if this were to completely erase the earlier fiasco from the other nation's mind. If not, that's why he made sure to make this visit as different as he could from the previous. He had plans to hold them for days, now only the Russian continued to enjoy them.

/

"Can you believe that my holiday is towards its end, Mr. America?" Russia asked as the two nations sat comfortably on the plush chairs inside the American's private office. There were just a couple of days left of the red nation's visit and naturally these days would be filled with the boring business aspect that the trip was going to eventually led to.

"Can't say I do." America took a sip of his coffee.

However, unlike any other business meeting that the stubborn nations had with each other, this one was surprisingly well. The whole experience had been what they could both consider a success. Despite some missteps such as the Disney fiasco and Russia's general want for some "me" time, the week had gone extremely well. They were entertained and getting along professionally. Neither would be willing to define it as anything other than professional, never being able to admit anything that seemed like they actually enjoyed each other's company. Either way, they were able to make strides that could never be imagined up until then.

The ultimatum that once hung over their heads, caused much grief, and served as a reminder of an invisible dotted line that stretched across Berlin was forgotten. Instead of counting the hours before they didn't have to see each, they were planning their next meeting. Yes, a summit would take place the following year they agreed. It would not only be for the two, no, it would include England and France as well. It had been quite a while since their last official summit where they could discuss the various issues they were facing. This summit could lead to many good outcomes if the conclusion to this meeting was any indication.

The most unexpected result was the agreement to respect each other's privacy. Neither where idiots, they both knew full well that covert missions for information were going on. Planes flying over head of each other's countries trying to gather as much as they could. The shocker came when the parties mutually agreed to stop the flyovers.

Thus, when America said that he could not believe the end of the visit was coming, what he truly meant was that he did not believe it had happened at all.

* * *

><p>AN:

1. Let's start with something fun. The Beatnik subculture was a big thing during the later 50's, early 60's. It was a subculture of anti-conformist with their own fashion, music, and slang. The stereotype was wearing tight black pants, black turtle necks, berets, black sunglasses, and played the bongos. (Hipsters of the day, perhaps.)

2. On August 17, 1959 the album "Kind of Blue" was released. It is described by many music writers to not only Miles Davis' best-selling album, but the best-selling jazz record of all time, going quadruple platinum.

3. On January 2, 1959 The Soviet Union launched the Luna 1 spacecraft. It was the first to break free of the Earth's gravitational pull and reach the vicinity of the moon.

4. (a) Two days later on January 4, 1959 Anastas Mikoyan, the Khrushchev's number two man landed in New York for a holiday. It was the first time such a high rank visited the US. It was a surprise for everyone, leaving the US government unprepared. His main purpose was to spread peace by going to different locations and speaking to the American people. He went over well with the people.

(b) Mikoyan presented the change to the ultimatum of "Berlin free under East" which really changed nothing at all. By the end of the visit the ultimatum was dropped all together.

5. It was known that Khrushchev had been impressed with American can food, cereal and ice cream.

6. Alaska because the 49th state on January 3, 1959. I didn't mention but Hawaii became the 50th state on August 21, 1959.

7. In 1959 Fidel Castro took over the Cuban Government after his band of guerilla soldiers overthrew President Batista. The US did quickly recognize the new regime. Castro visited with Vice President Nixon in March 1959.

8. On January 29, 1959 England and Wales were covered by such a dense fog that it left many parts in a standstill. London was the most affected. (Thus, the reason that England bumped into that pesky wall.)

9. Yes, the Cod Wars are still going on between Britain and Iceland. Also, this scene made me want to write about America's neighbors and what they think of him, especially Mrs. Potter. Also, we all know England is the master of getting lost.

10. On April 9, 1959 NASA held a press conference to introduce the 7 men would fly the first manned mission, among them Buzz Aldrin. At this time term spacemen was changed to astronauts.

11. "England sighed quietly, knowing that his general demeanor today came from the realization that with his current economic status the closest way he had of competing was to climb up a tall ladder." This was an Eddie Izzard reference. If you don't know him, please look him up he's a hilarious British comedian.

12. (a) On July 7, 1959 Khrushchev states that he would like to visit the US. On July 10, the US sends of an official invite, July 22 Khrushchev accepts. He comes over on September 15, 1959.

(b) Hearing that Disneyland is a must stop for tourist, Khrushchev gets upset and makes a scene when they refuse to let him and his family enter due to security issues. They believed that they would not be able to keep proper security for them while they were in the park. He was quoted saying "And I say, I would very much like to go and see Disneyland. But then, we cannot guarantee your security, they say. Then what must I do? Commit suicide? What is it? Is there an epidemic of cholera there or something? Or have gangsters taken hold of the place that can destroy me?"

(c) Khrushchev was able to visit other locations including a tour of the Twentieth Century Fox Studios in Hollywood. He was taken to the sound stage for the movie "Can-Can" and was able to meet the cast of the film, including Shirley MacLaine and Frank Sinatra. Khrushchev stood while the cast members performed a number from the film. He liked it very much.

(d) The trip as a whole went surprisingly well. Khrushchev and Eisenhower had in general gotten along, agreed to no more flyovers and agreed to have a summit the following year to further discuss peace.

13. I made an OC, Jeffery, America's assistant. He wasn't supposed to be in it as much as he was but, I kind of like him and the thought of him having some sort of man crush on England seemed hilariously charming.


End file.
